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CQEXmCHT DEPOSm 




THE NOTORIOUS MRS. 
EBBS 




f J WAY ^0! 895 

A DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS. 



Acting Rights Reserved. 




WALTER H. BAKER & CO., 
BOSTON. 



6 J- 



THE 



! Notorious Mrs. Ebbsmith 



A DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS 



BY 



•n 



<)«j^ 



ARTHUR W/PINERO 



I jViAyg(5i895 

All rights reserved nnder the International CopyH^i^_^^^^^ 
Performance forbidden, and right of representation reserved. :" 
Ap2)lication for the right of performing the above piece must 
he made to the publishers. 



BOSTON 



1895 



K. 






THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY. 



Duke of St. Olpherts. 

Sir Sandford Cleeve. 

Lucas Cleeve. 

Kev. Amos Winterfield. 

Sir George Brodrick. 

Dr. Kirke. 

Fortune. 

Antonio Poppi. 

Agnes. 

Gertrude Thorpe. 

Sybil Cleeve. 

Nella. 

Hephzibah. 

The Scene is laid in Venice ; firstly at the Palazzo Arco- 
nati, a lodging-house on the Grand Canal ; afterwards 
in an apartment in the Cawpo S. Bartolomeo. 

It is Eastertide, a week passing between the events of the 
first and second acts. 



Copyright, 1895, by Arthur W. Pinero. 



All rights reserved. 




THE 

NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

THE FIRST ACT. 

The scene is a room in the Palazzo Arconatl, on the 
Grand Canal, Venice. The room itself Is heau- 
tifal in its decayed grandeur, hut the furniture 
and hangings are eitlier tawdnj and meretri- 
cious or avowedly modern. The tliree ivindous 
at the back open on to a narrow, covered balcony, 
or loggia, and through them can be seen the 
ivest side of the canal. Between the recessed 
double doors, on either side of the room, is a 
fireplace out of nse, and a marble mantelpiece^ 
but a tiled stove is used for a wood fire. Break- 
fast things are laid on a table. The sjin 
streams into the room. 

Antonio Poppi and Nella, tivo Venetian ser- 
vants, with a touch of the picturesque in their 
attire, are engaged in clearing the breakfast 
table. 

Nell A. 

\_Turning her head.'] Ascolta ! (Listen!) 

Antonio. 

Una gondola alio scalo. (A gondola at our 
steps.) \_They open the centre ivindow ; go out on 

3 



4 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

to the halcony, and look down beloiv.~\ La Signora 
Thorpe. (The Signora Thorpe.) 

Nella. 

Con suo fratello. (With her brother.) 

Antonio. 

\_Calling.'] Buon di, Signor Winterfiekl ! Iddio 
la benedica ! (Good day, Signor Winterfiekl ! 
The blessing of God be upon you !) 

Nella. 

\_Cairing.~\ Buon di, Signora! La Madonna 
r assista ! (Good day, Signora ! May the Virgin 
have you in her keeping !) 

Antonio. 

\_Rf'turnin(j to the room.'] Noi siamo in ritardo 
di tutto questa mattina. (We are behindhand 
with everything this morning.) 

Nella. 
\_Follow'ing him.'] E vero. (That is true.) 

Antonio. 

\_Biistling about.] La stufa ! (The stove !) 

Nella. 

\_Throiving wood into the stove.] Che tu sia 
benedetta per rammentarnielo ! Questi Inglesi 
lion si contentono del sole. (Bless you for re- 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS, EBBSMITH. 5 

membering it! These English are not content 
with the sun.) 

{Leaving only a vase of flmvers upon the 
table, they hurry out ivith the break- 
fast things. At the same 7nome?it, 
Fortune, a manservant, enters, show- 
ing in Mrs. Thorpe and the Key. 
Amos Winterfield. Gertrude 
Thorpe is a pretty^ honest-looking 
young woman of about seven and 
twenty. Site is in mouiming, and 
has sorroufid eyes, and a complex- 
ion that is too delicate; but natural 
cheerfulness and brightness are seen 
through all. Amos is about forty — 
big, burly, gruff ; he is untidily 
dressed, and has a pipe in his hand. 
Fortune is carrying a pair of 
freshly cleaned, tan-coloured boots 
upon boot-trees. 

Gertrude. 

Now, Fortune, you ought to have told us down- 
stairs that Dr. Kirke is with Mrs. Cleeve. 

Amos. 

Come away, Gerty. Mrs. Cleeve can't want to 
be bored with us just now. 

Fortune. 

Mrs. Cleeve give 'er ordares she is always to 
be bored wiz Madame Thorpe and Mr. Winterfield. 



6 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

Amos. 
Ha, lia ! 

Gertrude. 

[/S?«i7/??Y/.] Fortune ! 

Fortune. 

Besides, ze doctares vill go in 'alf a minute, you 
se 

Gertrude. 

Doctors ! 

Amos. 

What, is there another doctor with Dr. Kirke ? 

Fortune. 
Ze great physician, Sir Brodrick. 

Gertrude. 
Sir George Brodrick ? Amos ! 

Amos. 
Doesn't Mr. Cleeve feel so well ? 

Fortune. 

Oh, yes. But Mrs. Cleeve 'appen to read in a 
newspapare zat Sir George Brodrick vas in Flor- 
ence for ze Paque — ze Eastare. Sir Brodrick 
vas Mr. Cleeve's doctare in London, Mrs. Cleeve 
tell me, so 'e is acquainted wiz Mr. Cleeve's 
inside. 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 7 

Amos. 
Ho, ho ! 

Gertrude. 
Mr. Cleeve's constitution, Fortune. 

Fortune. 

Excuse, madame. Zerefore Mrs. Cleeve she 
telegraph for Sir Brodrick to come to Venise. 

Akos. 
To consult with Dr. Kirke, I suppose. 

Fortune. 

\_Liste7ilng.~\ 'Ere is ze doctares. 

[Dr. Kirke enters, followed by Sir 
George Brodrick. Kirke is a 
shabby, snuff-taklng old gentleman — 
blunt, but kind ; Sir George, on the 
contrary, is scrujndously neat in his 
dress, and has a suave, i^vofessional 
manner. Fortune withdraics. 

Kirke. 

Good-morning, Mr. Winterfield. \_To Ger- 
trude.] How do you do, my dear ? You're get- 
ting some colour into your pretty face, Fm glad 
to see. \_To Sir George.] Mr. Winterfield — Sir 
George Brodrick. 

[Sir George and Amos shaJce hands. 



8 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

KiRKE. 

[To Sir George.] Mrs. Thorpe. [Sir George 
shakes hands iv'ith Gertrude.] Sir George and I 
started life together in London years ago; now he 
finds me here in Venice — well, we can't all win 
the race, eh ^ 

Sir George. 

My dear old friend! \_To Gertrude.] Mr. 
Cleeve has been telling me, Mrs. Thorpe, how 
exceedingly kind you and your brother have been 
to him during his illness. 

Gertrude. 
Oh, Mr. Cleeve exaggerates our little services. 



Amos. 



Vve done nothing. 



Gertrude. 
Nor I. 

Kirke. 
Now, my dear ! 

Gertrude. 

Dr. Kirke, you weren't in Florence with us 
you're only a tale-bearer. 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 9 

KiRKE. 

Well, I've excellent authority for my story of a 
young woman who volunteered to share the nurs- 
ing of an invalid at a time when she herself stood 
greatly in need of being nursed. 

Gertrude. 

Nonsense ! [T<9 kSir George.] You know, 
Amos — my big brother over there — Amos and 
I struck up an acquaintance with Mr. and Mrs. 
Cleeve at Florence, at the Hotel d'ltalie, and 
occasionally one of us would give Mr. Cleeve his 
dose while poor Mrs. Cleeve took a little rest or 
a drive — but positively that's all. 

KiRKE. 

You don't tell us — 

Gertrude. 

I've nothing more to tell, except that I'm awfully 
fond of Mrs. Cleeve — 

Amos. 

Oh, if you once get my sister on the subject 
of Mrs. Cleeve — \_Taklng up a newspaper. '\ 

Gertrude. 

[To Sir George.] Yes, I always say that if I 
were a man searching for a wife, I should be in- 
clined to base my ideal on Mrs. Cleeve. 



10 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH, 

Sir George. 
\_Edging away toioanJs Kirke, with a smyrised, 
uncomfortable sviile.'] Eh ? Really ? 

Gertrude. 
You conceive a different ideal, Sir George ? 

Sir George. 
Oh— well — 

Gertrude. 

Well, Sir George ? 

Amos. 

Perhaps Sir George has heard that Mrs. Cleeve 
holds regrettable opinions on some points. If so, 
he may feel surprised that a parson's sister — 

Gertrude. 

Oh, I don't share all Mrs. Cleeve's views, or 
sympathize Avitli them, of course. But they suc- 
ceed only in making me sad and sorry. Mrs. 
Cleeve's opinions don't stop me from loving the 
gentle, sweet woman ; admiring her for her patient, 
absorbing devotion to her husband ; wondering at 
the beautiful stillness with which she seems to 
glide through life ! — 

Amos. 
\_Puttlnr/ down the neivspai^er ; to Sir George 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. ir 

and KiRKE.] I told you so ! [To Gertrude.] 
Gertrude, I'm sure Sir George and Dr. Kirke want 
to be left together for a few minutes. 

Gertrude. 

[Goinr/ u]) to the ivindou\~\ I'll sun myself on 
the balcony. 

Amos. 

And I'll go and buy some tobacco. \_To Ger- 
trude.] Don't be long, Gerty. {Nodding to Sir 
George and Kirke.] Good-morning. 

\_They return his 7iod, and he goes out. 

Gertrude. 

[0)1 the balcony outside the window to Kirke 
and Sir George.] Dr. Kirke, I've heard what doc- 
tors' consultations consist of. After looking at the 
pictures you talk about whist. 

\_She closes the ivindoiu and sits. 

Kirke. 

{Producing his snuff-hox.'\ Ha, ha ! 

Sir George. 

Why, this lady and her brother evidently haven't 
the faintest suspicion of the actual truth, my dear 
Kirke ! 

Kirke. 

{Taking snuff. ~\ Not the slightest. 



12 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

Sir George. 

The woman made a point of being extremely- 
explicit with you, you tell me ? 

KiRKE. 

Yes ; she was plain enough with me. At our 
first meeting she said, '^ Doctor, I want you to 
know so-and-so, and so-and-so, and so-and-so.'^ 

Sir George. 

Eeally ? Well, it certainly isn't fair of Cleeve 
and his — his associate to trick decent people like 
Mrs. Thorpe and her brother. Good gracious, the 
brother is a clergyman too ! 

Kirke. 

The rector of some dull hole in the north of 
England. 

Sir George. 
Really ? 

Kirke. 

A bachelor ; this Mrs. Thorpe keeps house for 
him. She's a widow. 

Sir George. 

Really ? 

Kirke. 

Widow of a captain in the army. Poor thing ! 
She's lately lost her only child, and can't get over 
it. 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 13 

Sir George. 

Indeed, really, really ? . . . But about Cleeve 
now — he had Roman fever of rather a severe 
type ? 

KiRKE. 

In November. And then that fool of a Bicker- 
staff at Rome allowed the woman to move him to 
Florence too soon, and there he had a relapse. 
However, when she brought him on here the man 
was practically well. 

Sir George. 

The difficulty being to convince him of the fact, 
eh ? A highly strung, emotional creature ? 

KiRKE. 

You've hit him. 

Sir George. 

I've known him from his childhood. Are you 
still giving him anything ? 

Kirke. 
A little quinine, to humour him. 

Sir George. 

Exactly. \_Looldng at his watch.'] Where is 
she, where is she ? I've promised to take ni}^ wife 
shopping in the Merceria this morning. Bj^-the- 
bye, Kirke, — I must talk scandal, I find, — this is 



14 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

rather an odd circumstance. Whom do you think 
I got a bow from as I passed through the hall 
of the Danieli last night ? [Kikke (jrunts and 
shakes his head.] The Duke of St. Olpherts. 

KiRKE. 

\_TaJdn(j snujf.'] Ah ! I suppose you're in with 
a lot of swells now, Brodrick. 

Sir George. 

No, no, you don't understand me. The duke is 
this young fellow's uncle by marriage. His Grace 
married a sister of Lady Cleeve's, of Cleeve's 
mother, you know. 

KiRKE, 

Oh! This looks as if the family are trying to 
put a finger in the pie. 

Sir George. 

The duke may be here by mere chance. Still, 
as you say, it does look — [^Lowering Ids voice as 
Kirke rises, eyes an 02)ening door.~\ AYho's that ? 

KiRKE. 

The woman. 

[Agnes enters. She moves firinlg but 
noiselessly — a ijlacid. woman with a 
siveet, low voice. Her dress is j^lain to 
the verge of coarse7iess ; her face, tvhich 
has little colour, is at the first glance 
almost wholly unattractive. 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 15 

Agnes. 

[^Looking from one to the other.'] I thought you 
would send for me perhaps. \_To Sir Geokge.] 
What do you say about him ? 

KiRKE. 

One moment. [^Pointing to the balconj/.'] Mrs. 
Thorpe — 

Agnes. 
Excuse me. 

\^She goes to the ivindoiv and opens it. 

Gertrude. 

Mrs. Cleeve ! \_Entering the room.~\ Am I in 
the way ? 

Agxes. 

You are never that, dear. Eun along to my 
room ; I'll call you in a minute or two. [Ger- 
trude nods and goes to the door.~\ Take off your 
hat and sit with me a little while. 

Gertrude. 
I'll stay for a bit, but this hat doesn't take off. 

\_She goes out. 
Agxes. 

\To Sir George and Kirke.] Yes? 

Sir George. 
We are glad to be able to give a most favourable 



1 6 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 

report. I may say that Mr. Cleeve lias never ap- 
peared to be in better health. 

Agnes. 

\_Dratving a deep hreath.~\ He will be very 
much cheered by what you say. 

Sir George. 
\_B owing stiffly.'] I'm glad — 

Agxes. 

His illness left him with a morbid, irrational 
impression that he would never be quite his former 
self again. 

Sir George. 

A nervous man recovering from a scare. I've 
helped to remove that impression, I believe. 

Agnes. 

Thank you. We have a troublesome, perhaps a 
hard time before us ; we both need all our health 
and spirits. \_Turning her head, listening.] Lucas ^ 

[Lucas enters the room. He is a hand- 
some, intellectual-looking young man of 
about eight and tiuenty. 

Lucas. 

\_To Agnes, excitedly.] Have you heard what 
they say of me ? 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH, 17 

Agnes. 

\_Smiling.'] Yes. 

Lucas. 

How good of you, Sir George, to break up your 
little holiday for the sake of an anxious, fidgety 
fellow. \_To Agnes.] Isn't it ? 

Agnes. 

Sir George has rendered us a great service. 

Lucas. 

[Goingf to Kirke, brightlij.'] Yes, and proved 
how ungrateful I've been to you, doctor. 

Kirke. 

Don't apologize. People who don't know when 
they're well are the mainstay of my profession. 
[ Offering snuff-box. ] Here — 

[Lucas takes a pinch of sniffy laughingly . 

Agnes. 

{In a low voice to Sir George.] He has been 
terribly hipped at times. {Taking up the vase of 
flowers from the table.] Your visit will have made 
him another man. 

[She goes to a table, puts doivn the vase 
upon the tray, and commences to cut 
and arrange the fresh flowers she finds 
there. 



1 8 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

Lucas. 

\^Seeinff that Agnes is out of hearing.'] Excuse 
me, Kirke — just for one moment. \_To Sir 
George.] Sir George — [Kirke ^oms Agnes.] 
You still go frequently to Great Cumberland 
Place ? 

Sir George. 

Your mother's gout has been rather stubborn 
lately. 

Lucas. 

Very likely she and my brother Sandford will 
get to hear of yowv visit to me here ; in that case 
you'll be questioned pretty closely, naturally. 

Sir George. 
My position is certainly a little delicate. 

Lucas. 

Oh, you may be perfectly open with my people 
as to my present mode of life. Only — \_he mo- 
tions Sir George to he seated ; they sit facing 
each otJier'] only I want you to hear me declare 
again plainly \_looking towards Agnes] that but 
for the care and devotion of that good woman over 
there, but for the solace of that woman's com- 
panionship, I should have been dead months ago ; 
I should have died raving in my awful bedroom 
on the ground-floor of that foul Roman hotel. 
Malarial fever, of course ! Doctors don't admit 
— do they ? — that it is possible for strong men to 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 19 

die of miserable marriages. And yet I was dying 
in Rome, I truly believe, from my bitter, crushing 
disappointment, from the consciousness of my 
wretched, irretrievable — 

[Fortune enters carrying Lucas's hat., 
(jloves, overcoat, and silk wrap, and, 
upo7i a salver, a bottle of viedicine and 
a glass. 

Lucas. 
{^Sliarply.'] Qu'y a-t-il, Fortune ? 

Fortune. 

Sir, you 'ave an appointment. 

Lucas. 

\_Rising.~\ At the Danieli at eleven. Is it so 
late? 

[Fortune p)laces the things upon the table. 
Lucas puts the ivrap round his throat. 
Agnes, who has turned on Fortune's 
entrance, goes to Lucas and arranges 
the lorap for him solicitously. 

Sir George. 

\^Rising.'] I have to meet Lady Brodrick at 
the Fiazzetta. Let me take you in my gondola. 



Lucas. 



Thanks, delighted. 



20 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 

Agnes. 

[To Sir George.] I would rather Lucas went 
in the house gondola : I know its cushions are dry. 
May he take you to the Piazzetta ? 

Sir George. 

\_A little stiffly.'] Certainly. 

Agnes. 

\_To Fortune.] Mettez les coussins dans la 
gondole. 

Fortune. 

Bien, madam e. 

[Fortune goes out. Agnes begins to 
"measure a dose of medicine. 

Sir George. 
[To Agnes.] Er — I — ah — 

Lucas. 
[Putting on his gloves.] Agnes, Sir George — 

Agnes. 

\_Tu7ming to Sir George, the bottle and glass in 
her hands.] Yes ? 

Sir George. 

\_Constrainedly.'] AYe always make a point of 
acknowledging the importance of nursing as an 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 21 

aid to medical treatment. I — I am sure Mr. 
Cleeve owes you much in that respect. 

Agnes. 

Thank j^ou. 

Sir George. 

[To Lucas.] I have to discharge my gondola; 
you'll iSnd me at the steps, Cleeve. [Agnes shifts 
the viedicine bottle from one hand to the other so 
that her rlgJit hand may be free, but Sir George 
simpli/ boivs in a formal way and moves towards the 
f/oor.] You are coming with us, Kirke ? 

KiRKE. 

Yes. 

Sir George. 

Do you mind seeing that I'm not robbed by my 
gondolier ? \Jie goes out. 

Agnes. 

[Giving the medicine to LucAs, undisturbed.^ 
Here, dear. 

Kirke. 

[To Agnes.] May I pop in to-night for my 
game of chess ? 

Agnes. 

Do, doctor ; I shall be very pleased. 



22 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

KiRKE. 

\_Shaking her hand in a marked ivay.'] Thank 
you. \_He follows Sir George. 

Agnes. 

\_Looking after him.'] Liberal little man. 

\_She has Lucas's overcoat in her hand ; 
a small j)en-and-ink drawing of a 
woman^s head droijs from one of the 
Idockets. They pick it up together. 

Agnes. 

Isn't that the sketch you made of me in Flor- 
ence ? 

Lucas. 

\_Replacing it in the coat j^ocket.] Yes. 

Agnes. 
You are carrying it about with you ? 

Lucas. 

I slipped it into my pocket thinking it might 
interest the duke. 

Agnes. 

\_Assisting him ivlth his overcoat.'] Surely I am 
too obnoxious in the abstract for your uncle to en- 
tertain such a detail as a portrait. 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 23 

Lucas. 

It struck me it might serve to correct certain 
preconceived notions of my people's. 

Agxes. 

Images of a beautiful temptress with peach- 
blossom cheeks and stained hair ? 

Lucas. 

That's what I mean 5 I assume they suspect a 
decline of taste on my part of that sort. Good-by, 
dear. 

Agnes. 

Is this mission of the Duke of St. Olpherts the 
final attempt to part us, I wonder ? \_Angrily, her 
voice hardening.'l Why should they harass and 
disturb you as they do ? 

Lucas. 

[Kisslnff her.'] Nothing disturbs me now that 
I know I am strong and well. Besides everybody 
will soon tire of being shocked. Even conven- 
tional morality must grow breathless in the chase. 
\_He leaves her. She opens the door and calls. 

Agnes. 

Mrs. Thorpe ! I'm alone now. 

\^She goes on to the halcomj through the 
centre window, and looks doivn beloiv. 
Gertrude enters and joins her. 



24 THE NOTORIOUS MRS, EBBSMTTH. 

Gertrude. 

How well your husband is looking ! 

Agnes. 

Sir George Brodrick pronounces liim quite re- 
covered. 

Gertrude. 

Isn't that splendid ! [ Waving her hand and 
calling. '\ Buon giorno, Signor Cleeve ! Come 
molto meglio voi state ! [^Leaving the balcony, 
laughing.'] Ha, ha ! my Italian ! 

[Agnes waves finally to the gondola below, 
returns to the room, and slips her arm 
through Gertrude's. 

Agnes. 

Two whole days since I've seen you. 

Gertrude. 

They've been two of my bad days, dear. 

Agnes. 

^Looking into her face.] All right now? 

Gertrude. 

Oh, " God's in His heaven " this morning ! 
When the sun's out I feel that my little boy's bed 
in Ketherick Cemetery is warm and cosy. 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 25 

Agnes. 
\_Patting Gertrude's hand.~\ Ah! — 

Gertrude. 

The weather's the same all over Europe, accord- 
ing to the papers. Do you think it's really going 
to settle at last ? To me these chilly, showery 
nights are terrible. You know, I still tuck my 
child up at night-time, still have my last peep 
at him before going to my own bed ; and it is 
awful to listen to these cold rains — drip, drip, 
drip upon that little green coverlet of his ! 

\_She goes and stands by the window silently. 

Agnes. 

This isn't strong of you, dear Mrs. Thorpe. You 
mustn't — you mustn't. 

[Agnes brings the tray with the cut flowers 
to the nearer table ; calmly and method- 
ically she 7'esu7?ies trimming the stalks. 

Gertrude. 

You're quite right. That's over. Now, then, 
I'm going to gabble for five minutes gaily. \_Set- 
tling herself comfortably in an armchair.'] What 
jolly flowers you've got there ! What have you 
been doing with yourself ? Amos took me to the 
Ciiffe Quadri yesterday to late breakfast, to cheer 
me up. Oh, I've something to say to you ! At 
the Gaffe, at the next table to ours, there were 



26 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

three English people — two men and a girl — 
home from India, I gathered. One of the men 
was looking out of the window, quizzing the folks 
walking in the Piazza, and suddenly he caught 
sight of your husband. [Agnes's hands pause in 
their ivork.'] ''I do believe that's Lucas Cleeve," 
he said. And then the girl had a peep, and said, 
'^ Certainly it is." And the man said, " I must 
find out where he's stopping ; if Minerva is with 
him, you must call." " Who's Minerva ? " said 
the second man. "Minerva is Mrs. Lucas Cleeve," 
the girl said ; " it's a pet-name — he married a chum 
of mine, a daughter of Sir John Steyning's, a year 
or so after I went out." \_Rising and coming 
down.~\ Excuse me, dear. Do these people really 
know you and your husband, or were they talking 
nonsense ? 

[Agnes takes the vase of faded floivers, goes 
on to the balcony and empties the con- 
■ tents of the vase into the canal. Then 
she stands hy the window^ her hack to- 
wards Gertrude. 

Agnes. 

No ; they evidently know Mr. Cleeve. 

Gertrude. 

Your husband never calls you by that pet-name 
of 3^ours. Why is it you haven't told me you're 
a daughter of Admiral Steyning's ? 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 27 

Agnes. 
Mrs. Thorpe — 

Gertrude. 

[WarirUi/.^ Oil, I must say what I mean! I 
have often pulled myself up short in my gossips 
with you, conscious of a sort of wall between us. 
[Agnes coiiies slowli/ from the loindow.'] Somehow, 
I feel now that you haven't in the least made 
a friend of me. I'm hurt. It's stupid of me ; I 
can't help it. - 

Agnes. 

[After a moments 2^(^use.~\ I am not the lady 
these people w^ere speaking of yesterday. 

Gertrude. 
Not ? — 

Agnes. 

Mr. Cleeve is no longer with his wife ; he has 
left her. 

Gertrude. 

Left — his wife ! 

Agnes. 

Like yourself, I am a widow. I don't know 
whether you've ever heard my name — Ebbsmith. 
[Gertrude stares at her blankly.'] I beg your 
pardon sincerely. I never meant to conceal my 
true position ; such a course is opposed to every 
principle of mine. But 1 grew so attached to 



28 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

you in Florence and — well, it was contemptibly 
weak ; I'll never do such a thing again. 

\_She (joes hack to the table and commences 
to refill the vase with the fresh fiowers. 

Gertrude. 

When you say that Mr. Cleeve has left his wife, 
1 suppose you mean to tell me you have taken her 
place ? 

Agnes. 
Yes, I mean that. 

[Gertrude rises and walks to the door. 

Gertrude. 

\_At the door.~\ You knew that I could not 
speak to you again after hearing this ? 

Agnes. 

I thought it almost certain you would not. 

\_After a moment'' s irresolution, Gertrude 
returns, and stands by the settee. 

Gertrude. 
I can hardly believe you. 

Agnes. 

I should like you to hear more than just the 
bare facts. 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 29 

Gertrude. 

\_Drumming on the hack of the settee.~\ Why 
don't you tell nie more ? 

Agnes. 
You were going, you know. 

Gertrude. 

[_Sitting.~\ I won't go quite like that. Please 
tell me. 

Agnes. 

\_CalmJy.'] AVell, did you ever read of John 
Thorold — '^ Jack Thorold, the demagogue " ? 
[Gertrude shakes her ]iead.~\ I daresay not. 
John Thorold, once a school-master, was my 
father. In my time he used to write for the two 
or three so-called inflammatory journals, and hold 
forth in small lecture halls, occasionally even from 
the top of a wooden stool in the Park, upon trade 
and labour questions, division of wealth, and the 
rest of it. He believed in nothing that people 
who go to church are credited with believing in, 
Mrs. Thorpe ; his scheme for the re-adjustment of 
things was Force, his pet doctrine the ultimate 
healthy healing that follows the surgery of revolu- 
tion. But to me he was the gentlest creature im- 
aginable ; and I was very fond of him, in spite of 
his — as I then thought — strange ideas. Strange 
ideas ! Hah, many of 'em luckily don't sound 
quite so irrational to-day ! 



30 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH, 

Gertrude. 
[ Under her breath.'] Oh ! — 

Agnes. 

My home was a wretched one. If dad was 
violent out of the house, mother was violent 
enough in it; with her it was rave, sulk, storm, 
from morning till night ; till one day father turned 
a deaf ear to mother and died in his bed. That 
was my first intimate experience of the horrible 
curse that falls upon so many. 

Gertrude. 
Curse ? 

Agnes. 

The curse of unhappy marriage. Though really 
I'd looked on at little else all my life. Most of 
our married friends were cursed in a like way ; 
and I remember taking an oath, when I was a mere 
child, that nothing should ever push me over into 
the choked-up, seething pit. Fool ! When I was 
nineteen I was gazing like a pet sheep into a man's 
eyes ; and one morning I was married, at St. 
Andrew's Church in Holborn, to Mr. Ebbsmith, a 
barrister. 

Gertrude. 



In church ? 



Agnes. 



Yes, in church — in church. In spite of father's 
unbelief and mother's indifference, at the time I 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 31 

married I was as simple — ay, in my heart as 
devout — as any girl in a parsonage. The other 
thing hadn't soaked into me. Whenever I could 
escape from our stifling rooms at home, and slam 
the front door behind me, the air blew away un- 
certainty and scepticism ; I seemed only to have 
to take a long, deep breath to be full of hope and 
faith. And it was like this till that man married 
me. 

Gertrude. 

Of course, I guess your marriage was an un- 
fortunate one. 

Agnes. 

It lasted eight years. For about twelve months 
he treated me like a woman in a harem, for the 
rest of the time like a beast of burden. Oh ! when 
I think of it ! [ Wipinc) her broiu ivith her hand- 
kerchief. '\ Phew ! 

Gertrude. 

It changed you ? 

Agnes. 

Oh, yes, it changed me. 

Gertrude. 

You spoke of yourself just now as a widow. 
He's dead ? 

Agnes. 

He died on our wedding-day — the eighth anni- 
versary. 



32 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH 

Gertrude. 
You were free then — free to begin again. 

Agnes. 

Eh ? \_Loohing at Gertrude.] Yes, but you 
don't begin to believe all over again. \_She gathers 
up the stalks of the fiowers froTYi the tray, and, 
hneelmg, crams them into the stove.'\ However, 
this is an old story. I'm thirty-three now. 

Gertrude. 
{Hesitatingly r^ You and Mr. Cleeve ? — 

Agnes. 

We've known each other since last November, 
no longer. Six years of my life unaccounted for, 
eh ? Well, for a couple of years or so I was 
lecturing. 

Gertrude. 

Lecturing ? 

Agnes. 

Ah, I'd become an out-and-out child of my 
father by that time — spouting perhaps you'd call 
it, standing on the identical little platforms he used 
to speak from, lashing abuses with my tongue as 
he had done. Oh, and I was fond, too, of warning 
women. 

Gertrude. 

Against what ? 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 33 

Agnes. 

Falling into the pit. 

Gertrude. 

Marriage ? 

Agnes. 

The choked-up, seething pit — until I found my 
bones almost through my skin, and my voice too 
weak to travel across a room. 

Gertrude. 
From what cause ? 

Agnes. 

Starvation, my dear. So, after lying in a hos- 
pital for a month or two, I took up nursing for 
a living. Last November I was sent for by Dr. 
Bickerstaff to go through to Rome to look after 
a young man who'd broken down there ; and who 
declined to send for his friends. My patient was 
Mr. Cleeve — [taking njy the timy'] and that's 
where his fortunes join mine. 

\_She crosses the room and x>uts the tray 
upon the cabinet. 

Gertrude. 

And yet, judging from what that girl said yes- 
terday, Mr. Cleeve married quite recently ? 



34 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

Agxes. 

Less than three years ago. Men don't suffer as 
patiently as women. In many respects his mar- 
riage story is my own reversed — the man in place 
of the woman. I endured my hell, though ; he 
broke the gates of his. 

Gertrude. 

I have often seen Mr. Cleeve's name in the 
papers. His future promised to be brilliant, 
didn't it ? 

Agnes. 

\_Tidi/in(j the table, folding the newspapers, etc.'] 
There's a great career for him still. 

Gertrude. 
In Parliament — noiv ? 

Agxes. 

No; he abandons that and devotes himself to 
writing. We shall write much together, urging 
our views on this subject of Marriage. We shall 
have to be poor, I expect, but we shall be content. 

Gertrude. 

Content ! 

Agnes. 

Quite content. Don't judge us by my one piece 
of cowardly folly in keeping the truth from you, 
Mrs. Thorpe. Indeed, it's our great plan to live 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 35 

the life we have mapped out for ourselves, fear- 
lessly, openly; faithful to each other, helpful to 
each other, for as long as we remain together. 

Gertrude. 

But tell me — you don't know how ^ — how I 
have liked you ! — tell me, if Mr. Cleeve's wife 
divorces him he will marry you ? 

Agnes. 

No. 

Gertrude 

No! 

Agnes. 

No. I haven't made you quite understand — 
Lucas and I don't desire to marry, in your sense. 

Gertrude. 

But you are devoted to each other ! 

Agnes. 

Thoroughly. 

Gertrude. 

What, is that the meaning of "for as long as 
you are together " ! You would go your different 
ways if ever you found that one of you was mak- 
ing the other unhappy ? 

Agnes. 
I do mean that. We remain together only to 



36 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

help, to heal, to console. Why should men and 
women be so eager to grant to each other the 
power of wasting life ? That is what marriage 
gives — the right to destroy years and years of 
life. And the right once given, it attracts, at- 
tracts ! We have both suffered from it. So 
many rich years of my life have been squandered 
by it. And out of his life, so much force, energy 
— spent in battling with the shrew, the termagant 
he has now fled from ; strength never to be replen- 
ished, never to be repaid — all wasted, wasted ! 

Gertkude. 

Your legal marriage with him might not bring 
further miseries. 

Agnes. 

Too late ! AVe have done with Marriage ; we 
distrust it. We are not now among those who 
regard Marriage as indispensable to union. We 
have done with it ! 

Gertrude. 

^Advancing to her.'\ You know, it would be 
impossible for me, if I would do so, to deceive 
my brother as to all this. 

Agnes. 
Why, of course, dear. 

Gertrude. 

\_Lookmg at her watch.'] Amos must be won- 
dering — 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 37 

Agnes. 

E-un away, then. 

[Gertrude crosses quickly towards the 
door. 

Gertrude. 

\_Ret7'acing a ste}) or tivo.l Shall I see you ? — 
Oh! 

Agnes. 

\_Shaki7ig her head.'] Ah ! 

Gertrude. 

\_Going to her constrainedly.'] When Amos and 
I have talked this over, perhaps — perhaps — 

Agnes. 

No, no, I fear not. Come, my dear friend, 
\_with a S7nile] give me a shake of the hand. 

Gertrude. 

« \^Taki7ig her hand.] What you've told me is 
dreadful. [Looking into Agnes's face.] And yet 
you're not a Avicked woman! [^Kissing Agnes.] 
In case we don't meet again. 

\_The ivomen separate quickly., looking 
toivards the door as Lucas enters. 

Lucas. 
\_Shaking hands ivith Gertrude.] How do you 



38 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

do, Mrs. Thorpe ? I've just had a wave of the 
hand from your brother. 

Gertrude. 

Where is he ? 

Lucas. 

On his back in a gondola, a pipe in his mouth 
as usual, gazing skywards. \_Golng on to the bal- 
cony.'] He's within hail. 

[Gertrude goes quickbj to the door ^ fol- 
lowed by Agxes. 

Lucas. 
There ! by the Palazzo Sfoi za. 

\_He re-enters the room ; Gertrude has 
disappeared. 

Lucas. 

\^Going towards the door.] Let me get hold of 
him, Mrs. Thorpe. 

Agnes. 

[Standing before Lucas, quietly.] She knows, 
Lucas, dear. 

Lucas. 

Does she ? 

Agnes. 

She overheard some gossip at the Caffe Quadria 
yesterday, and began questioning me, so I told 
her. 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 39 

Lucas. 

\_Tahing off his coat.~\ Adieu to them, then, 
eh? 

Agnes. 

\_Assisting him.~\ Adieu. 

Lucas. 

I intended to write to the brother directly they 
had left Venice, to explain. 

Agnes. 

Your describing me as '^ Mrs. Cleeve " at the 
hotel in Florence helped to lead us into this ; after 
we move from here, I must always be, frankly, 
'' Mrs. Ebbsmith." 

Lucas. 

These were decent people. You and she had 
formed quite an attachment. 

Agnes. 
Yes. 

\_She places his coat, etc., on a chair, then 
fetches her work-basket from the cab- 
inet. 

Lucas. 

There's something of the man in your nature, 
Agnes. 



40 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

Agnes. 

I've anathematized my womanhood often enough. 

S^She sits at the table, taking out her ivork 
coviposedly. 

Lucas. 

Not that every man possesses the power you 
have acquired — the power of going through life 
with compressed lips. 

Agnes. 
\_Loohing up sviiling.'\ Apropos? 

Lucas. 

These people — this woman you've been so fond 
of. You see them shrink away with the utmost 
composure. 

Agnes. 

\_Threadmg a needle.~\ You forget, dear, that 
you and I have prepared ourselves for a good deal 
of this sort of thing. 

Lucas. 
Certainly, but at the moment — 

Agnes. 

One must take care that the regret lasts no 
longer than a moment. Have you seen your 
uncle ? 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 41 

Lucas. 
A glimpse. He hadn't long risen. 

Agnes. 

He adds sluggishness to other vices, then ? 

Lucas. 

\_Lighting a cigarette.~\ He greeted me through 
six inches of open door. His toilet has its mys- 
teries. 

Agnes. 

A stormy interview ? 

Lucas. 

The reverse. He grasped my hand warmly, de- 
clared I looked the picture of health, and said it 
was evident I had been most admirably nursed. 

Agnes. 

[Froiiming.'] That's a strange utterance. But 
he's an eccentric, isn't he ? 

Lucas. 

No man has ever been quite satisfied as to 
whether his oddities are ingrained or affected. 

Agnes. 
No man. What about women ? 



42 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

Lucas. 

Ho, tliey have had opportunities of closer ob- 
servation. 

Agnes. 

Hah ! And they report ? — 

Lucas. 
Nothing. They become curiously reticent. 

Agxes. 

[^Scornfully, as she is cutting a thread.'] These 
noblemen ! 

Lucas. 

[Taking a packet of letters from his j^ocket.] 
Finally he presented me with these, expressed a 
hope that he'd see much of me during the week, 
and dismissed me Avitli a fervent God bless you. 

Agnes. 
[Surprised.'] He remains here then ? 

Lucas. 
It seems so. 

Agnes. 

What are those, dear ? 

Lucas. 

The duke has made himself the bearer of some 
letters from friends. I've only glanced at them — 
reproaches — appeals — 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 43 

Agnes. 
Yes, I understand. 

\_He sits looking through the letters im- 
patientl , then tearirig them nj^ and 
throivin the jneees upon the table. 

Lucas. 

Lord Warminster — my godfather. '^ My clear 
boy. For God's sake ! " — \_Tearing up the letter 
and reading another.'] Sir Charles Littlecote. 
" Your brilliant future . . . blasted. ..." [^4;^- 
other letter.] Lord Froom. " Promise of a use- 
ful political career unfulfilled . . . cannot an old 
friend . . . ? '' ^Another letter.] Edith Heytes- 
bury. I didn't notice a woman had honoured me. 
[//i an undertone.] Edie ! — \_Slipping the letter 
into his pocket and opening another.] Jack 
Brophy. " Your great career " — Major Leete. 
" Your career " — \_Destroying the rest of the let- 
ters without reading them..] My career! my 
career ! That's the chorus, evidently. Well, 
there goes my career! 

\^She lays her work aside and goes to him. 

Agnes. 

Your career ? \_Pointing to the destroyed let- 
ters.] True, that one is over. But there's the 
other, you know — ours. 

Lucas. 
\_Toucliing her hand.] Yes, yes. Still, it's just 



44 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

a little saddening, the saying good-by [disturbing 
the scraps of paper'] to all this. 

Agnes. 

Saddening, dear ? Why, this political career of 
yours — think what it would have been at best ! 
Accident of birth sent you to the wrong side of 
the House, influence of family would always have 
kept you there. 

Lucas. 

[Partly to himself.'] But I made my mark. I 
did make my mark. 

Agnes. 

Supporting the Party that retards ; the Party 
that preserves for the rich, palters with the poor. 
[Pointing to the letter again.] Oh, there's not 
much to mourn for there 

Lucas. 
Still it was — success. 

Agnes. 

Success ! 

Lucas. 

I was talked about, written about, as a Coming 
Man — the Coming Man ! 

Agnes. 

How many "coming men" has one known! 
Where on earth do they all go to ? 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 45 

Lucas. 

Ah, yes, but I allowed for the failures and care- 
fully set myself to discover the causes of them. 
And, as I put my finger upon the causes and ex- 
amined them, I congratulated myself and said, 
"Well, I haven't that weak point in my armour, 
or that ; " and, Agnes, at last I was fool enough 
to imagine I had no weak point, none whatever. 

Agnes. 
It was weak enough to believe that. 

Lucas. 

I couldn't foresee that I was doomed to pay the 
price all nervous men pay for success ; that the 
greater my success became, the more cancer-like 
grew the fear of never being able to continue it, 
to excel it ; that the triumph of to-day was always 
to be the torture of to-morrow ! Oh, Agnes, the 
agony of success to a nervous, sensitive man ; the 
dismal apprehension that fills his life and gives 
each victory a voice to cry out, " Hear, hear ! 
Bravo, bravo, bravo ! but this is to be your last — 
you'll never overtop it ! '' Ha, yes ! I soon found 
out the weak spot in my armour — the need of 
constant encouragement, constant reminder of my 
powers ; [taking her hand'] the need of that 
subtle sympathy which a sacrificing, unselfish 
woman alone possesses the secret of. lBisi?ig.] 
Well, my very weakness might have been a source 
of greatness if, three years ago, it had been to such 



46 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

a woman that I had bound myself — a woman of 
your disposition ; instead of to ! — Ah ! — 

\_Sh6 lays her hand upon his arm soothingly. 

Lucas. 

Yes, yes, [taking her in his arms.~\ I know 1 
have such a companion now. 

Agnes. 

Yes — now — 

Lucas. 

You must be everything to me, Agnes — a 
double faculty, as it were. AVhen my confidence 
in myself is shaken, you must try to keep the con- 
sciousness of my poor powers alive in me. 

Agnes. 

I shall not fail you in that, Lucas. 

Lucas. 

And yet, whenever disturbing recollections come 
uppermost, when I catch myself mourning for 
those lost opportunities of mine ; it is your love 
that must grant me oblivion — [kissing her iqwn 
the Iq^s'] your love ! 

[She makes 7w 7'es2J07ise, and, after a 
pause, gently releases herself and re- 
treats a step or two. 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 47 

Lucas. 

[His eyes following her.] Agnes, you seem to 
be changing towards me, growing colder to me. 
At times you seem to positively shrink from me. 
I don't understand it. Yesterday I thought I saw 
you look at me as if I — frightened you ! 

Agnes. 

Lucas — Lucas dear, for some weeks, now, I've 
wanted to say this to you. 

Lucas. 
What ? 

Agnes. 
Don't you think that such a union as ours would 
be much braver, much more truly courageous, if it 
could but be — be — 

Lucas. 
If it could but be — what ? 

Agnes. 

[Averting her eijes.] Devoid of passion, if pas- 
sion had no share in it. 

Lucas. 

Surely this comes a little late, Agnes, between 
you and me. 

Agnes. 
[Leaning upon the lack of a chair, staring before 



48 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

Jier, and speaking in a low, steady voice.'] What 
has been was inevitable, I suppose. Still, we have 
hardly yet set foot upon the path we've agreed to 
follow. It is not too late for us, in our own lives, 
to put the highest interpretation upon that word 
— Love. Think of the inner sustaining power it 
would give us ! [_More forcihly.'] We agree to go 
through the world together, preaching the lessons 
taught us by our experiences. We cry out to all 
people, " Look at us ! Man and woman who are in 
the bondage of neither law nor ritual ! Linked 
simply by mutual trust ! Man and wife, but some- 
thing better than man and wife ! Friends, but 
even something better than friends ! " I say there 
is that which is noble, finely defiant, in the future 
we have mapped out for ourselves, if only — if 
only — 

Lucas. 
Yes! 

Agnes. 

\_Tur7iin(j from him.'] If only it could be free 
from passion ! 

Lucas. 

\_In a loiv voice.] Yes, but — is that possible ? 

Agnes. 

\_In the same tone, ivatching him askance, a 
frightened look in her eyes.] Why not ? 

Lucas. 
Young man and woman . . . youth and love 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 49 

. . . ? Scarcely upon this earth, my dear Agnes, 
such a life as you have pictured. 

Agnes. 

I say it can be, it can be ! — 

[Fortune enters, carrying a letter, upon 
a salver, and a beautiful houquet of 
tvhite flowers. He hands the note to 
Lucas. 

Lucas. 

\Taking the note, glancing at Agnes.] Eh ! 
\_To Fortune, poiiiting to the bouquet.^ Qu'avez- 
vous la ? 

Fortune. 

Ah, excuse. [Presenting the bouquet to Agnes.] 
Wiz compliment. [Agnes takes the bouquet won- 
deringhj.\ Tell Madame ze Duke of St. Olpherts 
bring it in person, 'e says. 

Lucas. 
\Opening the note.'\ Est-il parti? 

Fortune. 
'E did not get out of 'is gondola. 

Lucas. 

Bien. [Fortune withdraws. Reading the note 
aloud.~\ " While brushing my hair, my dear boy, 
I became possessed of a strong desire to meet the 



50 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

lady with whom you are now improving the shin- 
ing hour. Why the devil shouldn't I, if I want 
to ! AVithout prejudice, as my lawyer says, let me 
turn-up this afternoon and chat pleasantly to her 
of Shakespeare, also the musical glasses. Pray 
hand her this flag of truce — I mean my poor 
bunch of flowers — and believe me yours, with a 
touch of gout, St. Olpherts." \_Indignantly crush- 
ing the note.~\ Ah ! 

Agnes. 

\_Froioning at the floivers.'] A taste of the oddi- 
ties, I suppose ! 

Lucas. 

He is simply making sport of us. \_Going on to 
the balcony, and looking out.'] There he is. Damn 
that smile of his ! 

Agnes. 

Where? \_She joins him. 1 

Lucas. 
With the two gondoliers. 

Agnes. 

Why — that's a beautiful face ! How strange ! 

Lucas. 

\_Draiving her back into the roo7n.~\ Come away. 
He is looking up at us. 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS EBBSMITH. 51 

Agnes. 

Are you sure he sees us ? 

Lucas. 
He did. 

Agnes. 

He will want an answer — 

\_She deliberately flings the hoiiquet over 
the balcony into the canal, then returns 
to the table and picks up her work. 

Lucas. 

\_Looking out again cautiously.~\ He throws his 
head back and laughs heartily. \_Re-entering the 
7'oom.~\ Oh, of course, his policy is to attempt to 
laugh me out of my resolves. They send him here 
merely to laugh at me, Agnes, to laugh at me — 
[^coming to Agnes angriJy~\ laugh at me ! 

Agnes. 

He must be a man of small resources. [Thread- 
ing her needle.'] It is so easy to mock. 



END OF THE FIRST ACT. 



52 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 



THE SECOND ACT. 

The scene is the same as that of the previous act. 
Through the windoivs some mastheads and 
jiaj)j)ing sails are seen in the distance. The 
light is that of late afternoon. 

Agnes, very plainly dressed^ is sitting at the table, 
industriously copying from a manuscrij^t. After 
a moment or two, Antonio and. Nella enter 
the room, carrying a dressmahey^'' s box ivhich is 
corded and labelled. 

Nella. 
E permesso, Signora. (Permit us, Signora.) 

Antonio. 

Uno scatolone per la Signora. (An enormous 
box for the Signora.) 

Agnes. 

\_T liming her head.'] Eh? 

Nella. 

E venuto colla ferrovia — (It has come by the 
railway — ) 

Antonio. 

[^Consulting the label.] Da Firenze. (From 
Florence.) 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 53 

Agnes. 
By railway, from Florence ? 

ISTella. 

[Reading from the label. ^ "Emilia Bardini, 
Via Eondinelli." 

Agnes. 

Bardini ? That's the dressmaker. There must 
be some mistake. Non e per me, Nella. (It isn't 
for me.) 

[Antonio a7id ISTella carry the box to her 
aiihiiatedly. 

Nella. 

Ma guardi, Signora ! (But look, Signora !) 

Antonio. 
Alia Signora Cleeve ! 

Nella. 

E poi abbiamo pagato il porto della ferrovia. 
(Besides, we have paid the railway dues upon it.) 

Agnes. 

\_Collecting her sheets of paper. ~\ Hush, hush! 
don't trouble me just now. Mettez-la, n'importe 
ou. \_They place the box on another table. 

Nella. 
La corda intaccherebbe la forbice della Signora. 



54 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

A^iiole che Antonio la tagli ? (The cord would 
blunt the Signora's scissors. Shall Antonio cut 
the cord ? ) 

Agnes. 

\F inning lier sheets of jpai^er together. '\ I'll see 
about it by and by. Laissez-moi ! 

Nella. 

[Softly to Antonio.] Taglia, taglia ! (Cut, 
cut !) 

[Antonio produces a knife and cuts the 
cord, whereupon Nella utters a little 
scream. 

Agnes. 
\_Tiirning, startled.^ What is it? 

Nella. 

[Pushing Antonio away.^ Questo stupido non 
ha capito la Signora e ha tagliata la corda. (The 
stupid fellow misunderstood the Signora and has 
severed the cord.) 

Agnes. 

[Eising.^ It doesn't matter. Be quiet! 

Nella. 

[Removing the lid from the box angrily.'] Ed 
ecco la scatola aperta contro voglia della Signora ! 
(And now here is the box open against the 
Signora's wish ! ) [Inquisitively pushing aside the 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 55 

paper ivh'ich covers the contents of the box.'] Oh, 
Dio ! Si vede tiitto quel die vi e ! (Oh, God, and 
all the contents exposed ! ) 

[ Whe7i the paper is removed, some beauti- 
ful material trimmed ivith lace, etc.f 
is seen. 

Nella. 

Gnardi, guardi, Signora ! (Signora, look, look ! ) 
[Agnes examines the contents of the box with a 
pjuzzled air.'\ Oh, che bellezza ! (How beautiful !) 

[Lucas enters. 
Antonio. 

[To Nella.] II padrone. (The master.) 

[Nella courtesies to Lucas, then ivlth- 
draius tuith Antonio. 

Agnes. 

Lucas, the dressmaker in the Via Rondinelli at 
Florence — the woman who ran up the little gown 
I have on now — 

Lucas. 

[ With a smile.'] What of her ? 

Agnes. 

This has just come from her. Phuh ! What 
does she mean by sending the showy thing to me ? 

Lucas. 
It is my gift to you. 



56 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

Agnes. 

[Producing enough of the contents of the box to 
reveal a very handsome dress.'] This ! 

Lucas. 

I knew Bardini had your measurements; I wrote 
to her instructing her to make that. I remember 
Lady Heytesbury in something similar last season. 

Agnes. 

[Examining the dress.] A mere strap for the 
sleeve, and sufficiently decolletee, I should imagine. 

Lucas. 

My dear Agnes, I can't understand your reason 
for trying to make yourself a plain-looking woman 
when nature intended you for a i^retty one. 

Agnes. 
Pretty ! 

Lucas. 
[Looking hard at her.] You are pretty. 

Agnes. 

Oh, as a girl I may have been [disdainfidly] 
pretty. What good did it do anybody ? [Finger- 
ing the dressmnth aversion.] And when would you 
have me hang this on my bones ? 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 57 

Lucas. 
Oh, when we are dining, or — 

Agnes. 

Dining in a public place ? 

Lucas. 
Why not look your best in a public place ? 

Agnes. 

Look my best ! You know, I don't think of this 
sort of garment in connection with our companion- 
ship, Lucas. 

Lucas. 

It is not an extraordinary garment for a lady. 

Agnes. 

Eustle of silk, glare of arms and throat — they 
belong, in my mind, to such a very different order 
of things from that we have set up. 

Lucas. 

Shall I appear before you in ill-made clothes, 
clumsy boots — 

Agnes. 

Why ? We are just as we always have been, 
since we've been together. I don't tell you that 
your appearance is beginning to offend. 



58 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

Lucas. 

Offend ! Agnes, you — you pain me. I simply 
fail to understand why you should allow our mode 
of life to condemn you to perpetual slovenliness. 

Agnes. 

Slovenliness ! 

Lucas. 

No, no, shabbiness. 

Agnes. 

\_Looking down upon the dress she is wearing.~\ 

Shabbiness ! 

Lucas. 

[With a laugh.~\ Forgive me, dear ; I'm forget- 
ting you are wearing a comparatively new after- 
noon gown. 

Agnes. 

At any rate, I'll make this brighter to-morrow 
with some trimmings, willingly. \_Pointing to the 
drcss7naJcers box.^ Then you won't insist on my 
decking myself out in rags of that kind, eh ? 
There's something in the idea — I needn't explain. 

Lucas. 

[Fretfiillg.^ Insist ! I'll not urge you again. 
[Pointing to the hox.~\ Get rid of it somehow. 
Are you copying that manuscript of mine ? 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 59 

Agnes. 

I had just finished it. 

Lucas. 

Already ! \_Taking up her coj??/.^ How beauti- 
fully you write ! [Goinr/ to her eagerly.'] What 
do you think of my Essay ? 

Agnes. 
The subject bristles with truth ; it's vital. 

Lucas. 
My method of treating it ? 

Agnes. 
Hardly a word out of place. 

Lucas. 
\_Chilled.~\ Hardlf/ di, \YOTd? 

Agnes. 

Not a word, in fact. 

Lucas. 

No, dear, I daresay your ^' hardly " is nearer 
the mark. 

Agnes. 
I assure you it is brilliant, Lucas. 



6o THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

Lucas. 

What a wretch I am ever to find the smallest 
fault in you ! Shall we dine out to-night ? 

Agnes. 

As you wish, dear. 

Lucas. 

At the Griinwald ? \_He goes to the table to pick 
up his inanuscriid ; ichen his hack is turned she 
looks at her watch quickly.'] We'll solemnly toast 
this, shall we, in Montefiascone ? 

Agnes. 

\_Eyei7ig him askance.'] You are going out for 
your chocolate this afternoon as usual, I suppose ? 

Lucas. 

Yes; but I'll look through your copy first, so 
that I can slip it into the post at once. You are 
not coming out ? 

Agnes. 

Not till dinner-time. 

Lucas. 

\_Kissing her on the forehead.] I talked over 
the points of this [tnj^jnng the manuscript] with a 
man this morning ; he praised some of the phrases 
warmly. 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 6i 

Agnes. 
A man ? \_In an altered tone.~\ The duke ? 

Lucas. 
Er — yes. 

Agnes. 

[ With assumed indifference, replacing the lid on 
the dressmaker^ s box.'] You have seen him again 
to-day, then ? 

Lucas. 

We strolled about together for half an hour on 
the Piazza. 

Agnes. 

[Replacing the cord round the hox.'\ You — you 
don't dislike him as much as you did ? 

Lucas. 

He's somebody to chat to. I suppose one gets 
accustomed even to a man one dislikes. 

Agnes. 
\_Almost inaudihly.'] I suppose so. 

Lucas. 

As a matter of fact, he has the reputation of 
being rather a pleasant companion ; though I — I 
•'confess — I — I don't find him very entertaining. 

[^He goes out. She stands staring at the 
door through which he has disappeared. 
There is a knock at the opjjosite door. 



62 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

Agnes. 

\_Rousing herself. ~\ Fortune ! \_Raising her 
voice.'] Fortune ! 

\_TlLe door opens and Gertrude enters 
hurriedly. 

Gertrude. 

Fortune is complacently smoking a cigarette in 
the Campo. 

Agnes. 
Mrs. Thorpe ! 

Gertrude. 

\_Breathlessly.'] Mr. Cleeve is out, I conclude ? 

Agnes. 

No. He is later than usual going out this after- 
noon. 

Gertrude. 

\_Ir resolutely.'] I don't think I'll wait then. 

Agnes. 

But do tell me — you have been crossing the 
streets to avoid me during the past week — what 
has made you come to see me now ? 

Gertrude. 

I icould come. I've given poor Amos the slip ; 
he believes I'm buying beads for the Ketheriek 
school-children. 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 63 

Agnes. 

* \_Shaking her head.~\ Ah, Mrs. Thorpe ! — 

Gertrude. 

Of course, it's perfectly brutal to be under- 
handed. But we're leaving for home to-morrow ; 
I couldn't resist it. 

Agnes. 

\_Coldly.~\ Perhaps I'm very ungracious — 

Gertrude. 

[^Taki7ig Agnes 's hand.'] The fact is, Mrs. 
Cleeve — oh, what do you wish me to call you ? 

Agnes. 

[ JVithdraiving her hand.] Well, you're off to- 
morrow. Agnes will do. 

Gertrude. 

Thank you. The fact is, it's been a bad week 
with me — restless, fanciful. And I haven't been 
able to get you out of my head. 

Agnes. 
I'm sorry. 

Gertrude. 

Your story, your present life ; you, yourself — 
such a contradiction to what you profess ! — well, 
it all has a sort of fascination for me. 



64 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

Agnes. 

My dear, you're simply not sleeping again. 
\_Turning aivay.~\ You'd better go back to the 
ammonia Kirke prescribed for you. 

Gertrude. 

[Taking a card from her purse, with a little 
light laugh.'] You want to physic me, do you, 
after worrying my poor brain as you've done ? 
\_Going to her.] ''The Rectory, Daleham, Keth- 
erick Moor." Yorkshire, you know. There can 
be no great harm in your writing to me sometimes. 

Agnes. 

\_Ref using the card.] No ; under the circum- 
stances I can't promise that. 

Gertrude. 
[ Wistfully.] Very well. 

Agnes. 

[Facing her.] Oh, can't you understand that it 
can only be — disturbing to both of us for an im- 
pulsive, emotional creature like yourself to keep 
up acquaintanceship with a woman who takes life 
as I do ? We'll drop each other, leave each other 
alone. 

[_She walks away, ami stands leaning upon 
the stove, her back toivards Gertrude. 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 65 

Gertrude. 

\_Replacing the card in her purse.^ As you 
please. Picture me, sometimes, in that big, hol- 
low shell of a rectory at Ketherick, strolling about 
my poor dead little chap's empty room. 

Agnes. 
[^Under her breath.'] Oh ! 

Gertrude. 
\_T'mming to go.] God bless you. 

Agnes. 

Gertrude ! [ With altered manner.'] You — you 
have the trick of making me lonely also. \_Go- 
ing to Gertrude, taking her hands, and fondling 
them.] I'm tired of talking to the walls ! And 
your blood is warm to me ! Shall I tell you, or 
not — or not ? 

Gertrude. 
Do tell me. 

Agnes. 

There is a man here, in Venice, who is torturing 
me — flaying me alive. 

Gertrude 
Torturing you ? 

Agnes. 

He came here about a week ago ; he is trying to 
separate us. 



66 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 

Gertrude. 
You and Mr. Cleeve ? 

Agnes. 
Yes. 

Gertrude. 

You are afraid he will succeed ? 

Agnes. 

Succeed ! What nonsense you talk ! 

Gertrude. 
What upsets you then ? 

Agnes. 

After all, it's difficult to explain — the feeling is 
so indefinite. It's like — something in the air. 
This man is influencing us both oddly. Lucas is as 
near illness again as possible ; I can liear his nerves 
vibrating. And I — you know what a fish-like 
thing I am as a rule — just look at me now, as I'm 
speaking to you. 

Gertrude. 

But don't you and Mr. Cleeve — talk to each 
other ? 

Agnes. 

As children do when the lights are put out — of 
everything but what's uppermost in their minds. 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 67 

Gertrude. 
You have met the man ? 

Agnes. 
I intend to meet him. 

Gertrude. 

Who is he ? 

Agnes. 
A relation of Lucas's — the Duke of St. Olpherts. 

Gertrude. 
He has right on his side then? 

Agnes. 
If you choose to think so. 

Gertrude. 

\_Deliberately.'] Supposing he does succeed in 
taking Mr. Cleeve away from you ? 

Agnes. 

[^Staring at Gertrude.] What, iioiv, do you 
mean ? 

Gertrude. 
Yes. 

\_There is a brief pause ; tiien Agnes walks 
across the room wiping her brow ivith her 
handkerchief. 



68 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

Agnes. 
I tell you, that idea's — preposterous. 

Gertrude. 
Oh, I can't understand you ! 

Agnes. 
You'll respect my confidence ? 

Gertrude. 

Agnes ! 

Agnes. 

\_Sitthig .'\ Well, I fancy this man's presence 
here has simply started me thinking of a time — 
oh, it may never come ! — a time when I may cease 
to be — necessary to Mr. Cleeve. Do you under- 
stand ? 

Gertrude. 

I remember what you told me of your being 
prepared to grant each other freedom if — 

Agnes. 

Yes, yes — and for the past few days this idea 
has filled me with a fear of the most humiliating 
kind. 

Gertrude. 
What fear ? 

Agnes. 
The fear lest, after all my beliefs and protesta- 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH, 69 

tions, I should eventually find myself loving Lucas 
in the helpless, common way of women — 

Gertrude. 
\XJnder herbreath.~\ I see. 

Agnes. 

The dread that the moment may arrive some day 
when, should it be required of me, / shcciiH feel 
myseJf able to give him up easilij. \_Her head droop- 
ing, uttering a low i)ioan.~\ Oh! — 

[Lucas, dressed for going out, enters, 
carrying Agnes's copy of his manu- 
script, rolled and addressed for the post. 
Agnes rises. 

Agnes. 

[To Lucas.] Mrs. Thorpe starts for home to- 
morrow ; she has called to say good-by. 

Lucas. 

[_To Gertrude.] It is very kind. Is your good 
brother quite well ? 

Gertrude. 
\_Embarrassed.'] Thanks, quite. 

Lucas. 
\Sniiling.'\ I believe I have added to his expe- 



70 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMTTH. 

rience of the obscure corners of Venice, during the 
past week. 

Gertrude. 

I — I don't— Why? 

Lucas. 

By so frequently putting him to the inconven- 
ience of avoiding me. 

Gertrude. 
Oh, Mr. Cleeve, we — I — I — 

Lucas. 
Please tell your brother I asked after him. 

Gertrude. 
I — I can't ; he — doesn't know I've — I've — 

Lucas. 

Ah ! really ? [ With a how.'] Good-by. 

\He goes out, Agnes accompanying him to 
the door. 

Gertrude. 

[To herself.'] Brute! \_To Agnes.] Oh, I 
suppose Mr. Cleeve has made me look precisely 
as I feel. 

Agnes. 
How? 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 71 

Gertrude 

Like people deserve to feel, who do godly, mean 
things. [Fortune appears. 

Fortune. 

[To Agnes, significantly .'\ Mr. Cleeve 'as jus' 
gone out. 

Agnes. 

Vous savez, n'est-ce pas. 

Fortune. 

[^Glancing at Gertrude.] But Madame is now 
engage. 

Gertrude. 

[To Agnes.] Oh, I am going. 

Agnes. 

\_To Gertrude.] Wait. \_Softly to her.] I 
want 3^ou to hear this little comedy. Fortune shall 
repeat my instructions. [To Fortune.] Les or- 
dres que je vous ai donnes, repetez-les. 

Fortune. 

[Speaking in an undertone.'] On ze left 'and 
side of ze Campo — 

Agnes. 
Non, non — tout haut. 



72 THE NOTORIOUS MRS EBBSMITH. 

Fortune. 

\^Alo\id, ivith a slight shrug of the shoulders.'] 
On ze left 'and side of ze Campo — 

Agnes. 

Yes. 

Fortune. 

In one of ze doorways — between Fiorentini's 
and ze leetle lamp shop ze — ze — h'm — ze per- 
son. 

Agnes. 

Precisely. Depechez-vous. [Fortune hoivs and 
retires.'] Fortune flatters himself he is engaged 
in some horrid intrigue. You guess whom I am 
expecting ? 

Gertrude. 
The duke ? 

Agnes. 

\_Ringing a hell.] I've written to him asking 
him to call upon me this afternoon while Lucas is 
at Florian's. ^Eeferriiig to her watch.] He is to 
kick his heels about the Campo till I let him know 
I am alone. 

Gertrude. 



Will he obey you 



Agnes. 



A week ago he was curious to see the sort of 
animal I am. If he holds off now I'll hit upon 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBDSMITH. 73 

some other plan. I will come to close quarters 
with him, if only for five minutes. 

Gertrude. 

Good-by. \_They embrace, then ivalk together to 
the door.'] You still refuse my address ? 

Agnes. 
You bat ! Didn't you see me make a note of it ? 

Gertrude. 
You! 

Agnes. 

[i/er ha7id on her heart.] Here. 

Gertrude. 
\_Gratefulbj.'] Ah! \_She goes out. 

Agnes. 

\_At the open door.] Gertrude ! 

Gertrude. 

{^Outside.] Yes? 

Agnes. 

\In a low voice.] Remember, in my thoughts 
I pace that lonely little room of yours with you. 
\^As if to stojp Gertrude /romre-eTi^e?'/??*/.] Hush! 
No, no. 

\^She closes the door sharply. Nell A appears. 



74 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

Agnes. 

\Pointing to the box 07i the tahle.~\ Portez ce 
carton dans ma cliambre. 

Nella. 

\_Tryi7ig to peep into the box as she carries it.'] 
Signora, se Ella si mettesse questo magnifico abito ! 
Oh ! qiianto sarebbe piii bella ! (Signora, if you 
were to wear this magnificent dress ! Oh ! how 
much more beautiful you would be ! ) 

Agnes. 

[Listening. ] Sssh ! Sssh ! [Nella goes out. 
Fortune enters.] Eh, bien ? 

[Fortune glances over his shoulder. The 
Duke of St. Olpherts enters ; the 
wreck of a very handsome man, with 
delicate features, a transparent coni- 
pjlexion, a polished nfianner, and a 
smooth, weary voice. He limps, walk- 
ing tvith the aid of a cane. Fortune 
retires. 

Agnes. 

Duke of St. Olpherts ? 

St. Olpherts. 
[^Bowing.] Mrs. Ebbsmith? 

Agnes. 

Mr. Cleeve would have opposed this rather out- 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 75 

of-the-way proceeding of mine. He doesn't know 
I have asked you to call on me to-day. 

St. Olpherts. 

So I conclude. It gives our meeting a pleasant 
air of adventure. 

Agxes. 

I shall tell him directly he returns. 

St. Olpherts. 
\_Gallanthj.~\ And destroy a cherished secret. 

Agnes. 

You are an invalid ; [inotioning him to he seated'] 
pray don't stand. \_Sitting.'] Your Grace is a 
man who takes life lightly. It will relieve you to 
hear that I wish to keep sentiment out of any busi- 
ness we have together. 

St. Olpherts. 

I believe I haven't the reputation of being a 
sentimental man. \_Seatlng himself.] You send 
for me, Mrs. Ebbsmith — 

Agnes. 

To tell you I have come to regard the suggestion 
you were good enough to make a week ago — 

St. Olpherts. 
Suggestion ? 



76 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMTTH. 

Agnes. 

Shakespeare, the musical glasses, you know — 

St. Olpherts. 
Oh, yes. Ha ! ha ! 

Agnes. 

I've come to think it a reasonable one. At the 
moment I considered it a gross impertinence. 

St. Olpherts. 

Written requests are so dependent on a sympa- 
thetic reader. 

Agnes. 

That meeting might have saved you time and 
trouble. 

St. Olpherts. 

I grudge neither. 

Agnes. 

It might perhaps have shown your Grace that 
your view of life is too narrow ; that your method 
of dealing with its problems wants variety ; that, 
in point of fact, your employment upon your 
present mission is distinctly inappropriate. Our 
meeting to-day may serve the same purpose. 

St. Olpherts. 
My view of life ? 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 77 

Agnes. 

That all men and women may safely be judged 
by the standards of the casino and the dancing- 
garden. 

St. Olpherts. 

I have found those standards not altogether un- 
trustworthy. My method — ? 

Agnes. 
To scoff, to sneer, to ridicule. 

St. Olpherts. 

Ah ! And how much is there, my dear Mrs. 
Ebbsmith, belonging to humanity that survives 
being laughed at ? 

Agnes. 

More than you credit, duke. For example, I — • 
I think it possible you may not succeed in grinning 
away the compact between Mr. Cleeve and myself. 

St. Olpherts. 
Compact ? 

Agnes. 
Between serious man and woman. 

St. Olpherts. 
Serious woman. 

Agnes. 
Ah, at least you must see that — serious woman. 



78 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

{Rising, facing him.'\ You can't fail to realize, 
even from this slight personal knowledge of me, 
that you are not dealing just now with some poor, 
feeble ballet-girl. 

St. Olpherts. 

But how well you put it! \_Rising.'\ And how 
frank of you to furnish, as it were, a plan of the 
fortifications to the — the — 

Agnes. 

Why do you stick at '^ enemy " ? 

St. Olpherts. 

It's not the word. Opponent ! For the mo- 
ment, perhaps, opponent. I am never an enemy, 
I hope, where your sex is concerned. 

Agnes. 

No, I am aware that you are not overnice in 
the bestowal of your patronage — where my sex 
is concerned. 

St. Olpherts. 

You regard my appearance in an affair of morals 
as a quaint one. 

Agnes. 

Your Grace is beginning to know me. 

St. Olpherts. 
Dear lady, you take pride, I hear, in belonging 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 79 

to — The People. You would delight me amaz- 
ingly by giving me an inkling of the popular 
notion of my career. 

Agnes. 

\_Walklng away.~\ Excuse me. 

St. Olpherts. 

\_FoUoiinng her.'] Please ! It would be instruc- 
tive, perhaps chastening. I entreat. 

Agnes. 
ISTo. 

St. Olpherts. 

You are letting sentiment intrude itself. \_Sit- 
tingy in 2)idn.~\ I challenge you. 

Agnes. 

At Eton you were curiously precocious. The 
head-master, referring to your aptitude with books, 
prophesied a brilliant future for you ; your tutor, 
alarmed by your attachment to a certain cottage 
at Ascot which was minus a host, thanked his 
stars to be rid of you. At Oxford you closed all 
books, except, of course, betting-books. 

St. Olpherts. 

I detected the tendency of the age — scholarship 
for the masses. I considered it my turn to be 
merely intuitively intelligent. 



So THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

Agnes. 

You left Oxford a gambler and spendthrift. A 
year or two in town established you as an amia- 
ble, undisguised debauchee. The rest is modern 
history. 

St. Olpherts. 

Complete your sketch. Don't stop at the — 
rude outline. 

Agnes. 

Your affairs falling into disorder, you promptly 
married a w^ealthy woman — the poor, rich lady 
who has for some years honoured you by being 
your duchess at a distance. This burlesque of 
marriage helped to reassure your friends, and 
actually obtained for you an ornamental appoint- 
ment for which an over-taxed nation provides a 
handsome stipend. But, to sum up, you must 
always remain an irritating source of uneasiness 
to your own order, as, luckily, you will always be 
a sharp-edged weapon in the hands of mine. 

St. Olpherts. 

\With a 'polite smile.'] Yours! Ah, to that 
small, unruly section to which I understand you 
particularly attach yourself. To the — 

Agnes. 

[ WitJi changed man7ier, flashing eyes, harsh voice, 
and violent gestures.] The sufferers, the toilers ; 
that great crowd of old and young — old and 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 8i 

young stamped by excessive labour and privation 
all of one pattern — whose backs bend under 
burdens, whose bones ache and grow awry, whose 
skins, in youth and in age, are wrinkled and yellow ; 
those from whom a fair share of the earth's space 
and of the light of day is withheld. \_Lookinrj 
down upon him fiercehj.~\ The half-starved who 
are bidden to stand with their feet in the kennel 
to watch gay processions in which you and your 
kind are borne high. Those who would strip the 
robes from a dummy aristocracy and cast the 
broken dolls into the limbo of a nation's discarded 
toys. Those who — mark me ! — are already upon 
the highway, marching, marching; whose time is 
coming as surely as yours is going! 

St. Olpherts. 

\_Clapping his hands gently.'] Bravo! bravo! 
Really a flash of the old fire. Admirable ! {^She 
icalks away to the window with an impatient excla- 
mation.] Your present affaire du cceur does not 
wholly absorb you then, Mrs. Ebbsmith. Even 
now the murmurings of love have not entirely 

superseded the thunderous denunciations of 

h'm — you once bore a nickname, my dear. 

Agnes. 

\_Turni7ig sharply.] Ho, so you've heard that, 
have you ! 

St. Olpherts. 
Oh, yes. 



82 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 

Agxes. 

Mad — Agnes? \_He hojus deprGcatingly.~\ We 
appear to have studied each other's history pretty 
closely. 

St. Olpherts. 

Dear lady, this is not the first time the same 
roof has covered us. 

Agnes. 

No? 

St. Olpherts. 

Five years ago, on a broiling night in July, I 
joined a party of men who made an excursion 
from a club-house in St. James's Street to the un- 
savoury district of St. Luke's. 

Agnes. 

Oh, yes. 

St. Olpherts. 

A depressin' building; the Iron Hall, Barker 
Street — no — Carter Street. 

Agnes. 

Precisely. 

St. Olpherts. 

We took our places amongst a handful of frowsy 
folks who cracked nuts and blasphemed. On the 
platform stood a gaunt, white-faced young lady 
resolutely engaged in making up by extravagance 
of gesture for the deficiencies of an exhausted 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 83 

voice. " There," said one of my compauions, 
^'tliat is the notorious Mrs. Ebbsmith." Upon 
which a person near us, whom I judged from his 
air of leaden laziness to be a British working man, 
blurted out, " Notorious Mrs. Ebbsmith ! Mad Ag- 
nes I That's the name her sanguinary friends give 
her — Mad Agnes!" At that moment the eye of 
the panting oratress caught mine for an instant 
and you and I first met. 

Agnes. 

[^Passing her hand across her brow, thou(jhtfidlij.'\ 
Mad — Agnes . . . [To him, with a grim smile.^ 
We have both been criticised, in our time, pretty 
sharply, eh, duke ? 

St. Olpherts. 

Yes. Let that reflection make you more chari- 
table to a poor j)eer. [^ knock at the door. 

Agnes. 

Entrez ! 

[Fortune and Antonio enter, Antonio 
carrying tea, etc., upon a tray. 

Agnes. 

[To St. Olpherts.] You drink tea — fellow- 
sulferer ? 

\He signifies assent. Y ortv :s e jylcices the 
tray on the table, then withdraws luith 
Antonio. Agnes ^j>o«rs out tea. 



84 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

St. Olpherts. 

\_Produci7ig a little box from his waistcoat pocket.'] 
No milk, dear lady. May I be allowed — saccha- 
rine ? 

\^She hands him his cup of tea ; their eyes 'meet. 

Agnes. 

\_Scor7fully.~\ Tell me now — really — why do 
the Cleeves send a rip like you to do their serious 
work ? 

St. Olpherts. 

[Laughing heartily.] Ha, ha, ha! Rip! ha, 
ha ! Poor solemn family ! Oh, set a thief to 
catch a thief, you know. That, I presume, is 
their motive. 

Agnes. 

\_Pausing in the act of pouring out tea and star- 
ing at him.] What do you mean ? 

St. Olpherts. 

[Sipping his tea.] Set a thief to catch a thief. 
And, by deduction, set one sensualist who, after 
all, doesn't take the trouble to deceive himself, to 
rescue another who does. 

Agnes. 

If I understand you, that is an insinuation 
against Mr. Cleeve. 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 85 

St. Olpherts. 
Insinuation ! — 

Agnes. 
[^Looking at him fixedly. ~\ Make yourself clearer. 

St. Olpherts. 

You have accused me, Mrs. Ebbsmith, of nar- 
rowness of outlook. In the present instance dear 
lady, it is your judgment which is at fault. 

Agnes. 
Mine? 

St. Olpherts. 

It is not I who fall into the error of confounding 
you with the designing danseuse of commerce ; it 
is, strangely enough, you who have failed in your 
estimate of Mr. Lucas Cleeve. 

Agnes. 

What is my estimate ? 

St. Olpherts. 

I pay you the compliment of believing that you 
have looked upon my nephew as a talented young 
gentleman whose future was seriously threatened by 
domestic disorder ; a young man of a certain cour- 
age and independence, with a share of the brain 
and spirit of those terrible human pests called re- 
formers; the one young gentleman, in fact, most 



86 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSM/TH. 

likely to aid you in advancing your vivacious social 
and political tenets. You have had such thoughts 
in your mind ? 

Agnes. 
I don't deny it. 

St. Olpherts. 

Ah ! But what is the real, the actual Lucas 
Cleeve ? 

Agnes. 

Well — what is the real Lucas Cleeve ? 

St. Olpherts. 

Poor dear fellow! I'll tell you. \_Goin(j to the 
table to deposit his cuj) titer c , while she watches 
him, her hajids tiglitly clasped^ a frhjlitened look in 
her eyes.~\ The real Lucas Cleeve. \_Coming hack 
to her.'] An egoist. An egoist. 

Agnes. 
An egoist. Yes. 

St. Olpherts. 

Possessing ambition without patience, self- 
esteem without self-confidence. 

Agnes. 

Well? 

St. Olpherts. 
Afflicted with a desperate craving for the opium 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. Z^ 

like drug, adulation ; persistently seeking the so- 
ciety of those whose white, pink-tipped fingers fill 
the pernicious pipe most deftly and delicately. 
Eh? 

Agnes. 
I didn't — Pray go on. 

St. Olpherts. 

Ha, I remember they looked to his marriage to 
check his dangerous fancy for the flutter of lace, 
the purr of pretty women. And now, here he is — 
loose again. 

Agnes. 

[ Suffe r inrj. ] Oh! — 

St. Olpherts. 

In short, in intellect still nothing but a callow 
boy ; in body, nervous, bloodless, hysterical ; in 
morals — an Epicure. 

Agnes. 
Have done ! Have done ! 

St. Olpherts. 

" Epicure " offends you. A vain woman would 
find consolation in the word. 

Agnes. 

Enough of it ! Enough ! Enough ! 

\_She turns away, beating her hands to- 
gether. The light in the room has 



88 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

gradually become subdued ; the icarm 
tinge of sunset now colours the scene 
outside the ivindows. 

St. Olpherts. 

[With a shrug of his shoulders.'] The real 
Lucas Cleeve. 

Agnes. 

No, no ! untrue ! untrue ! [Lucas enters. The 
three reiriain silent for a moment.'] The Duke of 
St. Olpherts calls in answer to a letter I wrote to 
him yesterday. I wanted to make his acquaint- 
ance. \_She goes out. 
Lucas. 

[After a brief pause.] By a lucky accident the 
tables were crowded at Florian's ; I might have 
missed the chance of welcoming you. In God's 
name, duke, why must you come here ? 

St. Olpherts. 

\_Fumbling in his pockets for a note.] In God's 
name ? You bring the orthodoxy into this queer 
firm then, Lucas ? \_Handing the note to Lucas.] 
A peremptory summons. 

Lucas. 

You need not have obeyed it. [St. Olpherts 
takes a cigarette from his case and limps away.] 
I looked about for you just now. I wanted to see 
you. 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 89 

St. Olpherts. 
[Lightinf/ the cigarette.'] How fortunate ! — 

Lucas. 

To tell you that this persecution must come to 
an end. It has made me desperately wretched for 
a whole week. 

St. Olpherts. 



Persecution ? 
Temptation. 



Lucas. 



St. Olpherts. 

Dear Lucas, the process of inducing a man to 
return to his wife isn't generally described as 
temptation. 

Lucas. 

Ah, I won't hear another word of that proposal. 
[St. Olpherts shrugs his shoulders.] I say my 
people are offering me, through you, a deliberate 
temptation to be a traitor. To which of these two 
women — my wife or \_pointing to the door] to her 

— am I really bound now ? It may be regrettable, 
scandalous, but the common rules of right and 
wrong have ceased to apply here. Finally, duke 

— and this is my message — I intend to keep faith 
with the woman who sat by my bedside in Rome, 
the woman to whom I shouted my miserable story 
in my delirium, the woman whose calm, resolute 
voice healed me, hardened me, renewed in me the 
desire to live. 



90 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

St. Olphekts. 

Ah ! Oh, these modern nurses, in their greys, 
or browns, and snowy bibs ! They have much to 
answer for, dear Lucas. 

Lucas. 

No, no ! Why will you persist, all of you, in re- 
garding this as a mere morbid infatuation bred in 
the fumes of pastilles ? It isn't so ! Laugh if you 
care to ! — but this is a meeting of affinities, of the 
solitary man and the truly sympathetic woman. 

St. Olpherts. 
And oh, oh, these sympathetic women ! 

Lucas. 

No ! Oh, the unsympathetic women ! There 
you have the cause of half the world's misery. 
The unsympathetic women — you should have 
loved one of them. 

St. Olpherts. 
I daresay I've done that in my time. 

Lucas. 

Love one of these women — I know ! — worship 
her, yield yourself to the intoxicating day-dreams 
that make the grimy world sweeter than any heaven 
ever imagined. How your heart leaps with grati- 
tude for your good fortune ; how compassionately 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 91 

you regard your unblest fellow-men ! What may 
you not accomplish with such a mate beside you ; 
how higii will be your aims, how paltry every 
obstacle that bars your way to them ; how sweet 
is to be the labour, how divine the rest ! Then — 
you marry her. Marry her, and in six months, 
if you've pluck enough to do it, lag behind your 
shooting-party and blow your brains out by acci- 
dent, at the edge of a turnip-field. You have found 
out by that time all that there is to look for — 
the daily diminishing interest in your doings, the 
poorly assumed attention as you attempt to talk 
over some plan for the future ; then the yawn 
and, by degrees, the covert sneer, the little sar- 
casm, and, finally, the frank, open stare of bore- 
dom. Ah, duke, wdien you all carry out your 
repressive legislation against women of evil lives, 
don't fail to include in your schedule the Unsym- 
pathetic Wives. They are the women whose vic- 
tims show the sorriest scars ; they are the really 
"bad women" of the world — all the others are 
snow-white in comparison ! 

St. Olpherts. 

Yes, you've got a great deal of this in that capi- 
tal Essay you quoted from this morning. Dear 
fellow, I admit your home discomforts. But to 
jump out of that frying-pan into this confounded 
— what does she call it ? — Compact ! 

Lucas. 
Compact ? 



92 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

St. Olpherts. 

A vague reference, as I understand, to your joint 
crusade against the blessed institution of Marriage. 

Lucas. 

\^An alteration in liis manner. '\ Oh — ho, that 
idea ! What — what has she been saying to you ? 

St. Olpherts. 

Incidentally she pitched into me, dear Lucas ; 
she attacked my moral character. You must have 
been telling tales. 

Lucas. 

Oh, I — I hope not. Of course, we — 

St. Olpherts. 

Yes, yes — a little family gossip, to pass the 
time while she has been dressing her hair, or — 
by-the-bye, she doesn't appear to spend much 
time in dressing her hair. 

Lucas. 

\_Bitin<j his lip.'\ Really? 

St. Olpherts. 

Then she denounced the gilded aristocracy gen- 
erally. Our day is over; we're broken wooden 
dolls and are going to be chucked. The old tune, 
but I enjoyed the novelty of being so near the 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSM/TH. 93 

instrument. I assure you, dear fellow, I was 
within three feet of her when she deliberately 
Trafalgar Squared me. 

Lucas. 

IWith an uneasy laugh.'] You're the red rag, 
duke. This spirit of revolt in her — it's ludi- 
crously extravagant ; but it will die out in time, 
when she has become used to being happy and 
cared for — \_2Kirtly to himself, lalth clenched 
hands'] yes, cared for. 

St. Olpherts. 
Die out ? Bred in the bone, dear Lucas. 

Lucas. 

On some topics she's a mere echo of her father 
— if you mean that. 

St. Olpherts. 

The father — one of these public-park vermin, 
eh? 

Lucas. 
Dead years ago. 

St. Olpherts. 

I once heard her bellowing in a dirty little shed 
in St. Luke's. I told you ? 

Lucas. 

Yes ; you've told me. 



junior ? 



94 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 

St. Olphekts. 

I sat there again, it seemed, this afternoon. 
The orator not quite so lean, perhaps ; a little less 
witch-like, but — 

Lucas. 

She was actually in want of food in those days. 
Poor girl ! [PoMly to himseJf.^ I mean to re- 
mind myself of that constantly. Poor girl ! 

St. Olpherts. 
Gii'l f Let me see — you're considerably her 

Lucas. 

No, no ; a few months perhaps. 

St. Olpherts. 
Oh, come ! 

Lucas. 

Well, years — two or three. 

St. Olpherts. 
The voice remains rather raucous. 

Lucas. 
By God, the voice is sweet 

St. Olpherts. 
Well — considering the wear and tear. Eeally, 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 95 

my dear fellow, I do believe this — I do believe 
that if you gowned her respectably — 

Lucas. 

\_Impulsively.~\ Yes, yes, I say so. I tell her 
that. 

St. Olpherts. 

[ With a smile.'] Do you ! That's odd now. 

Lucas. 
What a topic ! Poor Agnes's dress ! 

St, Olpherts. 

Your taste used to be rather sesthetic. Even 
your own wife is one of the smartest women in 
London. 

Lucas. 

Ha, well, I must contrive to smother these 
aesthetic tastes of mine. 

St. Olpherts. 

It's a pity that other people will retain their 
sense of the incongruous. 

Lucas. 

[^Snapping his fingers.'] Other people ! — 

St. Olpherts. 
The public. 



96 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

Lucas. 
The public ? 

St. Olpherts. 

Come, you know well enough that unostentatious 
immodesty is no part of your partner's programme. 
Of course, you will find yourself by and by in a 
sort of perpetual public parade with your crack- 
brained visionary — 

Lucas. 
You shall not speak of her so ! You shall not. 

St. Olpherts. 

\_Unconcernedhj.'] Each of you bearing a pole 
of the soiled banner of Free Union. Free Union 
for the People ! Ho, my dear Lucas ! 

Lucas. 

Good heavens, duke, do you imagine, now that 
I am in sound health and mind again, that I don't 
see the hideous absurdity of these views of hers ! 

St. Olpherts. 

Then why the deuce don't you listen a little 
more patiently to my views ? 

Lucas. 

No, no. I tell you I intend to keep faith with 
her, as far as I am able. She's so earnest, so 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 97 

pitiably earnest. If I broke faith with her en- 
tirely it would be too damnably cowardly. 

St. Olpiierts. 
Cowardly ? 

Lucas. 

\_Pacing the rooyn (i(jitatedly.~\ Besides, we shall 
do well together, after all, I believe — she and I. 
In the end we shall make concessions to each other 
and settle down, somewhere abroad, peacefully. 

St. Olpherts. 

Hah ! And they called you a Coming Man at 
one time, didn't they ? 

Lucas. 

Oh, I — I shall make as fine a career with my 
pen as that other career would have been. At any 
rate, I ask you to leave me to it all — to leave me. 

[Fortune enters. The shades of evening 
have now deepened ; the glow of sunset 
comes into the room. 

Fortune. 
I beg your pardon, sir. 

Lucas. 
Well ? 

Fortune. 

It is pas' ze time for you to dress for dinner. 



98 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

Lucas. 
I'll come. [Fortune goes out. 

St. Olpherts. 
When do we next meet, dear fellow ? 

Lucas. 
No, no — please not again. 

[Nell A enters^ excitedly. 

Nella. 

\_Speaki7ig over her shoulder.^ Si, Signore ; ecco 
il Signore. (Yes, Signora ; here is the Signor.) 
[To Cleeve.] Scusi, Signore. Qiiando la vedra 
come e cara ! — (Pardon, Signor. When you see 
her you'll see how SAveet she looks ! — ) 

[ Agnes 's voice is heard. 

Agnes. 

\^Outside.^ Am I keeping you waiting, Lucas ? 

\_She enters, handsomely gowned, her throat 
and arms ba7'e, the fashion of her hair 
roughly altered. She stops ahniptly 
upon seeing St. Olpherts ; a strange 
light comes into her eyes ; voice., manner, 
hearing, all express triumph. The two 
Tnen stare at her blankly. She appears 
to be a beautiful ivoman. 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBDSMITH. 
Agxes. 



99 



[To Nell A.] Un petit chale noir tricote — cher- 
chez-le. [Nella iuitJidniws.~\ Ah, you are not 
dressed, Lucas dear. 

Lucas. 

What — what time is it ? 

\_He goes toiuards the door still staring at 
Agnes. 

St. Olpherts. 

\_Looking at her and speaking in an altered tone.'\ 
I fear my gossiping has delayed him. You — you 
dine out ? 

Agnes. 

At the Grtinwakl. Why don't you join us ? 
[Turning to Lucas ligktlf/.^ Persuade him, Lucas. 

[Lucas pauses at the door. 

St. Olpherts. 

Er - — impossible. Some — friends of mine may 
arrive to-night. [Lucas goes out.] 1 am more 
than sorry. 

Agnes. 

\_Mockingbj.~\ Really ? You are sure you are 
not shy of being seen with a notorious woman ? 

St. Olpherts. 
My dear Mrs. Ebbsmith ! — 



100 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

Agnes. 

No, I forget — that would be unlike you. Mad 
people scare you, perhaps ? 

St. Olpherts 
Ha, ha ! don't be too rough. 

Agnes. 

Come, duke, confess — isn't there more sanity 
in me than you suspected ? 

St. Olpherts. 

\In a loiv voice, eyeing her.'] Much more. I 
think you are very clever. 

[Lucas quietly re-enters the room ; he 
halts upon seeing that St. Olpherts 
still lingers. 

St. Olpherts. 

\_With a wave of the hand to Lucas.] Just off, 
dear fellow. \Iie offers his hand to Agnes ; she 
quickly places hers behind her hack.] You — you 
are charming. \^He walks to the door, then looks 
round at the jjalr.] Au 'voir! 

Agnes. 

Au Voir ! [St. Olpherts goes out. Her head 
drooping suddenly, hcv voice hard and dull.] You 
had better take me to Fulici's before we dine and 
buy me some gloves. 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS EBBSMITH. loi 

Lucas. 

\_Co7)iing to her and seizing her hand.'] Agnes 
dear ! 

Agnes. 

\_Iieleasing herself and sitting ivith a heavy, al- 
most sulleii, look upon her face.] Are you satis- 
fied ? 

Lucas. 

\_Bil her side.] You have delighted me ! how 
weet you look ! 

Agnes. 
Ah — 

Lucas. 

You shall have twenty new gowns now ; you 
shall see the women envying you, the men envying 
me. Ah, ha ! fifty new gowns ! you will wear 
them ? 

Agnes. 
Yes. 

Lucas. 
Why, what has brought about this change in 

Agnes. 



you? 



What ! 

Lucas. 
What? 

Agnes. 
I — know — 



102 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

Lucas. 

You know. 

Agnes. 

Exactly how you regard me. 

Lucas. 
I don't understand you — 

Agnes. 

Listen. Long ago, in Florence, I began to sus- 
pect that we had made a mistake, Lucas. Even 
there I began to suspect that your nature was 
not one to allow you to go through life sternly, 
severely, looking upon me more and more each 
day as a fellow-worker, and less and less as — a 
woman. I suspected this — oh, proved it! — but 
still made myself believe that this companionship 
of ours would gradually become, in a sense, colder 
— more temperate, more impassive. \_Beating her 
broiv.^ Never ! never ! Oh, a few minutes ago 
this man, who means to part us if he can, drew 
your character, disposition, in a dozen words ! 

Lucas. 

You believe hiJii ! You credit what he says of 
me ! 

Agnes. 

I declared it to be untrue. Oh, but — 

Lucas. 
But— but — ! 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 103 

Agnes. 

\Ilising^ seizhuj his arm.'] The picture he paints 
of you is not wholly a false one. Sssh ! Lucas, 
hark, attend to me ! I resign myself to it all ! 
Dear, I must resign myself to it ! 

Lucas. 

Resign yourself ? Has life with me become so 
distasteful ? 

Agnes. 

Has it ? Think ! Why, when I realized the 
actual conditions of our companionship — why 
didn't I go on my own way stoically ? Why don't 
I go at this moment ? 

Lucas. 

You really love me, do you mean — as simple, 
tender women are content to love ? \^She looks 
at Iiim, nods sloivly, then turns away and droojis 
over the table. He raises her and takes her in 
his arms.'] My dear girl ! My dear, cold, warm- 
hearted girl ! Ha ! You couldn't bear to see me 
packed up in one of the duke's travelling-boxes 
and borne back to London, eh ? [^She shakes her 
head ; her Hjjs form the word "iVo."] No fear of 
that, my — my sweetheart ! 

Agnes. 

[ Genthj iiushincj him from her.] Quick — dress 
— take me out. 



I04 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

Lucas. 

You are shivering; go and get your thickest 
wrap. 

Agnes. 

That heavy brown cloak of mine ? 

Lucas. 
Yes. 

Agnes. 

It's an old friend, but — dreadfully shabby. You 
will be ashamed of me again. 

Lucas. 
Ashamed ! — 

Agnes. 

I'll write to Bardini about a new one to-morrow. 
I won't oppose you — I won't repel you any more. 

Lucas. 

Kepel me ! I only urged you to reveal yourself 
as what you are — a beautiful woman. 

Agnes. 

Ah! Ami — that? 

Lucas. 
\_Kissing her.'] Beautiful — beautiful ! 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 105 

Agnes. 

[ With a gesture of abandonment.'] I — I'm glad. 

[^She leaves hhn and goes out. He looks 
after her for a moment thoughtfully, 
then suddenly jjasses his hands across 
his broiv and opens his arms widely as 
if casting a burden from him. 

Lucas. 
Oh ! — oh ! — \_Turning aicay alertly.] Fortune 

! 



END OF THE SECOND ACT. 



io6 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH, 



THE THIED ACT. 

The scene is the same as before, hut it is eve7iing, 
and the hnn/ps are lighted ivitJiin the room, 
while outside is hrigJit moonlight. Agnes, 
dressed as at the end of the jpreceding Act, is 
lying upon the settee propped up) by pillous. 
A pretty silk shawl, ichich she plays with rest- 
lessly, is over her sJioulders. Her face is jmle, 
but her eyes glitter, and her voice has a brig]it 
ring in it. Kirke is seated at a table, writing. 
Gektkude, untho'ut hat or mantle, is standing 
behind the settee, looking down smilingly upon 
Agnes. 

Kirke. 

{^Vrithig.'\ H'm — [To Agnes.] Are you 
often guilty of this sort of thing? 

Agnes. 

\_Laughvng.'] I've never fainted before in my 
life ; I don't mean to do so again. 

Kirke. 

\_Writlng.^ Should you alter your mind about 
that, do select a suitable spot on the next occasion. 
What was it your head came against ? 

Gertrude. 
A wooden chest, Mr. Cleeve thinks. 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS EBBSMITH. 107 

Agnes. 

With beautiful, rusty, iron clamps. \Futting 
her hand to her head, and addressing Gertrude.] 
The price of vanity. 

KiRKE. 

Vanity ? 

Agnes. 

Lucas was to take me out to dinner. While I 
was waiting for him to dress I must needs stand 
and survey my full length in a mirror. 

Kirke. 

\_Glancing at her.'] A very excusable proceed- 
ing. 

Agnes. 

Suddenly the room sank and left me — so the 
feeling was — in air. 

Kirke. 

Well, most women can manage to look into their 
pier-glasses without swooning — eh, Mrs. Thorpe ? 

Gertrude. 
\_Smiling.~\ How should I know, doctor ? 

Kirke. 

\_Blotting his loriting.'] There. How goes the 
time ? 



io8 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

Gertrude. 
Half-past eight. 

KiRKE. 

ni leave this prescription at Mantovani's my- 
self. I can get it made up to-night. 

Agnes. 

\_Taking the prescription out of his hand, play- 
fully. '\ Let me look. 

KiRKE. 

\Frotestinfj.'\ Now, now 

.Agnes. 

\_Reading the pjrescription.'] Ha. ha ! After all, 
what humbugs doctors are ! 

Kirke. 

You've never heard me deny it 

Agnes. 

\_Returning the jwescription to him.'] But I'll 
swallow it — for the dignity of my old profession. 

\_She reaches out her hand +o take a cigarette.. 

Kirke. 

Don't smoke too many of those things. 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 109 

Agxes. 

They never harm me. It's a survival of the 
time in my life when the cupboard was always 
empty. [Sfrikinr/ a match.'] Only it had to be 
stronger tobacco in those days, I can tell you. 

\^S/ie lights her cigarette. Gertrude ^5 
assistingJLiRKiE with his overcoat. Lu- 
cas enters in evening dress, and looking 
younger, almost boyish. 

Lucas. 
IBrightly.-] Well ? 

KiRKE. 

She's to have a cup of good bouillon — Mrs. 
Thorpe is going to look after that — and anything 
else she fancies. She's all right. \_Shaking hands 
with Agxes.] The excitement of putting on that 
pretty frock — [Agxes gives a hard little laugh. 
Shaking hands ivith Lucas.] I'll look in to-mor- 
row. [Turning to Gertrude.] Oh, just a word 
with you, mirse. 

[Lucas has been bending over Agnes 
affectionately ; he noiv sits by her., and 
they talk in under tones ; he lights a 
cigarette frorn hers. 

KiRKE. 

\_To Gertrude.] There's many a true word, 
et cetera. 



no THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 

Gertrude. 

Excitement ? 

KiRKE. 

Yes ; and that smart gown's connected with it 
too. 

Gertrude. 

It is extraordinary to see her like this. 

KiRKE. 

Not the same woman. 

Gertrude. 

No, nor is he quite the same man. 

KiRKE. 

How long can you remain with her ? 

Gertrude. 

Till eleven — if you will let my brother know 
where I am. 

KiRKE. 

What, doesn't he know ? 

Gertrude. 

I simply sent word, about an hour ago, that I 
shouldn't Toe back to dinner. 

KiRKE, 

Very well. 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. in 

Gertrude. 

Look here ! I'll get you to tell hiin the truth. 

KiRKE. 



The truth — oh ? 

Gertrude. 

I called here this afternoon, unknown to Amos, 
to bid her good-by. Then I pottered about, rather 
miserably, spending money. Coming out of Kaya's 
the photographer's, I tumbled over Mr. Cleeve, 
who had been looking for you, and he begged me 
to come round here again after I had done my 
shopping. 

Kirke. 

I understand. 

Gertrude. 

Doctor, have you ever seen Amos look dread- 
fully stern and knit about the brows — like a 
bishop who is put out ? 

Kirke. 
No. 

Gertrude. 

Then you will. 

Kirke. 
Well, this is a pretty task ! — 

\He goes out. Gertrude comes to Agnes. 
Lucas rises. 



112 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

Gertrude. 

I'm going down into the kitchen to see what 
these people can do in the way of strong soup. 

Lucas. 

You are exceedingly good to us, Mrs. Thorpe. 
I can't tell you how ashamed I am of my bearish- 
ness this afternoon. 

Gertrude. 

^^Arranging the shawl about Agnes's shoulders.'] 
Hush, please ! 

Agnes. 

Are you looking at my shawl ? Lucas brought 
it in with him, as a reward for my coming out of 
that stupid faint. I — I have always refused to 
be — spoilt in this way, but now — now — 

Lucas. 

\^Breaking in deliberately.'] Pretty work upon 
it, is there not, Mrs. Thorpe ? 

Gertrude. 

Charming. \_G0i71g to the door which Lucas 
opens for her.] Thank you. 

\_She passes out. Agnes rises. 

Lucas. 
Oh, my dear girl ! — 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 113 

Agnes. 

\_Throiving her cigarette under the stove.'\ I'm 
quite myself again, Lucas dear. Watch me — 
look ! [ Walking firmly. 

Lucas. 
No trembling ? 

Agnes. 

Not a flutter. [Watching her open hand.~\ My 
hand is absolutely steady. [He takes her hand 
and kisses it upon the pal7n.~\ Ah ! — 

Lucas. 

[Looking at her hand.'] No, it is shaking. 

Agnes. 
Yes when you — when you — oh, Lucas ! — 

[She sinks into a chair, turning her back 
up)on him, and covering her face with 
her hands ; her shoulders heaving. 

Lucas. 
[Going to her.] Agnes, dear ! 

Agnes. 

[Taking out her handkerchief.] Let me — let 
me — 

Lucas. 

[Bending over her.] I've never seen you — 



114 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 

Agnes. 

No ; I've never been a crying woman. But some 
great change has befallen me, I believe. AVhat 
is it ? That swoon — it wasn't mere f aintness, 
giddiness ; it was this change coming over me ! 

Lucas. 
You are not unhappy ? 

Agnes. 

[Wipi?if/ her eyes.'] No, I — I don't think I 
am. Isn't that strange ? 

Lucas. 

My dearest, I'm glad to hear you say that, for 
you've made me very happy. 

Agnes. 
Because I — ? 

Lucas. 

Because you love me — naturally, that's one 
great reason. 

Agnes. 

I have always loved you. 

Lucas. 

But never so utterly, so absorbingly, as you confess 
you do now. Do you fully realize what your con- 
fession does ? It strikes off the shackles from me, 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 115 

from us — sets us free. [ With a gesture of free- 
dom.'] Oh, my clear Agnes, free ! 

Agxes. 
\_Starlng at him.] Free ? 

Lucas. 

Free from the burden of that crazy plan of ours 
of trumpeting our relations to the world. For- 
give me — crazy is the only word for it. Thank 
heaven, we've at last admitted to each other that 
we're ordinary man and woman ! Of course, I was 
ill — off my head. I didn't know what I was en- 
tering upon. And you, dear — living a pleasure- 
less life, letting your thoughts dwell constantly on 
old troubles ; that is how cranks are made. Now 
that Fni strong again, body and mind, I can pro- 
tect you, keep you right. Ha, ha ! What were we 
to pose as ? Examples of independence of thought 
and action ! \_Laug1iliuj.~\ Oh, my darling, we'll 
be independent in thought and action still — but 
we won't muke examples of ourselves, eh ? 

Agnes. 

[ Who has been icatchlng Jiim tvith unde-open eyes.] 
Do you mean that all idea of our writing together, 
working together, defending our position, and the 
positions of such as ourselves, before the world, is 
to be abandoned ? 

Lucas. 
Why, of course. 



ii6 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 

Agnes. 

/ — I didn't quite mean that. 

Lucas. 

Oh, come, come ! We'll furl what my uncle 
calls the banner of Free Union finally. [_Going 
to her, and kissing her hair lightly. \ Tor the 
future, mere man and woman. [Facing the room 
excitedly.'] The future ! I've settled everything 
already. The work shall fall wholly on my 
shoulders. My poor girl, you shall enjoy a little 
rest and pleasure. 

Agnes. 
\_In a low voice.] Best and pleasure — 

Lucas. 

We'll remain abroad. One can live unobserved 
abroad, without actually hiding. \^She rises 
sloivly.] We'll find an ideal retreat. No more 
English tourists prying round us ! And there, 
in some beautiful spot, alone except for your 
company, I'll work ! [^As he paces the room, she 
ivalks slowly to and fro, listening, staining before 
her.] I'll work. My new career! I'll write 
under a nom de plume. My books, Agnes, shall 
never ride to popularity on the back of a scan- 
dal. Our life ! The mornings I must spend by 
myself, of course, shut up in my room. In the 
afternoon we will walk together. After dinner 
you shall hear what I've written in the morning ; 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 117 

and then a few turns round our pretty garden, 
a glance at the stars with my arm about your 
waist — \_She stops abruptly., a look of horror 
on her face.~\ While you whisper to me words 
of tenderness, words of — [^There is the distant 
sound of music of mandolin and guitar.~\ Ah ? 
[To Agnes.] Keep your shawl over your shoul- 
ders. \_Op)enin(j the tvindow and stepping out ; the 
music becoming louder.'] Some mandolinisti, in a 
gondola. \_Listening at the luindoiu, his head turned 
from her.] How pretty, Agnes ! Now, don't those 
mere sounds, in such surroundings, give you a sen- 
sation of hatred for revolt and turmoil ! Don't 
they conjure up alluringly pictures of peace and 
pleasure, of golden days and star-lit nights — 
pictures of beauty and of love ? 

Agnes. 

\_Sitting on the settee, staring before her, speaking 
to herself] My marriage — the early days of my 
marriage — all over again ! 

Lucas. 

\_Turning to lier.] Eh ? \_Closing the ivindow, and 
coming down to Iter as the music dies away.] Tell 
me that those sounds thrill you. 

Agnes. 

Lucas — 

Lucas. 

\_Sitting beside her.] Yes ? 



ii8 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

Agnes. 

For the first few months of my marriage — 
\_Bre(>kin(j off abruptly, and looking into his face 
vjonderinfjly.^ Why, how young you seem to have 
become ; you look quite boyish ! 

Lucas. 

\_Lauglting.'] I believe that this return of our 
senses will make us both young again. 

Agnes. 

Both ? [ With a little shudder.'] You know, 
I'm older than you. 

Lucas. 

Tsch! 

Agnes. 

\_Passlng her nand through his hair.] Yes, I 
shall feel that 7iow. \_Stroking his brow tenderly.] 
Well — so it has come to this. 

Lucas. 

I declare you have colour in your cheeks al- 
ready. 

Agnes. 
The return of my senses ? 

Lucas. 

My dear Agnes, we've both been to the verge of 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 119 

madness, you and I — driven there by our troubles. 
\_Taking her hand.'] Let us agree, in so many 
words, that we have completely recovered. Shall 
we? 

Agxes. 

Perhaps mine is a more obstinate case. IMy 
enemies called me mad years ago. 

Lucas. 

[ With a ivave of the hand.'] Ah, but the future, 
the future. ]S"o more thoughts of reforming un- 
equal laws from public platforms, no more shriek- 
ing in obscure magazines. No more beating of 
bare knuckles against stone walls. Come, say it ! 

Agnes. 

[ With an effort.] Go on. 

Lucas. 

\_Look'inr/ before h'lni — parthj to himsetf his voice 
hardening.] I'll never be mad again — never. 
[Throw i7ig his head back.] By heavens ! \^To her, 
in an altered tone.] You don't say it. 

Agnes. 

\_After a panse.] I — I will never be mad 
again. 

Lucas. 

\_Triumphantly.] Hah! ha, ha! \_She deliber- 
ately removes the shawl from about her shoulders 



I20 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 

and, putting her arms round his neck, draws him 
to her.'\ Ah, my dear girl ! 

Agnes. 

\_hi a ivhisjjer with her head on his breast.~\ 
Lucas. 

Lucas. 
Yes. 

Agnes. 
Isn't this madness ? 

Lucas. 

I don't think so. 

Agnes. 

Oh ! oh ! oh ! I believe, to be a woman is to be 
mad. 

Lucas. 

No, to be a woman trying not to be a woman — 
that is to be mad. 

\_She dratvs a long, dee}) breath, then, sit- 
ting away from him, resumes her shaivl 
mechanically. 

Agnes. 

Now, you promised me to run out to the Capello 
Nero to get a little food. 

Lucas. 

Oh, I'd rather — 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 121 

Agnes. 
\_Rldn<jr\ Dearest, you need it. 

Lucas. 

\Rism<j.'\ Well — Fortune shall fetch my hat 
and coat. 

Agnes. 

Fortune ! Are you going to take all my work 
from me ? 

\_She is ivalkuKj towards the door ; the 
sound of his voice stops her. 

Lucas. 

Agnes! \_She returns.'^ A thousand thoughts 
have rushed through my brain this last hour or 
two. I've been thinking — my wife — 

Agnes. 
Yes? 

Lucas. 

My wife — she will soon get tired of her present 
position. If, by and by, there should be a divorce, 
there would be nothing to prevent our marrying. 

Agnes. 

Our — marrying ! 

Lucas. 

\^Sitting, not looking at her, as if discussing the 
matter with himself ~\ It might be to my ad van- 



122 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

tage to settle again in London some day. After 
all, scandals quickly lose their keen edge. What 
would you say ? 

Agnes. 
Marriage — 

Lucas. 

Ah, remember, we're rational beings for the 
future. However, we needn't talk about it now. 

Agnes. 
No. 

Lucas. 

Still, I assume you wouldn't oppose it. You 
would marry me if I wished it ? 

Agnes. 
\J.n a low voice.^ Yes. 

Lucas. 

That's a sensible girl ! By Jove, I am hungry ! 

[^e lights a cigarette, as she walks slowly 
to the door, then throws himself idly 
back on the settee. 

Agnes. 

[To herself, in a whisper.'] My old life — my 
old life coming all over again ! 

\_She goes out. He lies watching the 
ivreaths of tobacco smoke. After a mo- 
ment or two. Fortune enters, closing 
the door behind hi7n carefully. 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 123 
Lucas. 

FuKTUXE. 

\_After a glance round, dropphuj his voice.'\ Ze 
Duke of Saint Olphert 'e say 'e voukl like to speak 
a meenit alone. 

[Lucas rises, ivith a muttered exclaniatloii 
of annoyance, 

Lucas. 

Priez Monsieur le due d'entrer. 

[Fortune (joes to the door and opens it. 
The Duke of St. Olphekts enters; he 
is in evening dress. Foktuxe retires. 

St. Olphekts. 

Quite alone ? 

Lucas. 

For the moment. 

St. Olphekts. 

My excuse to Mrs. Ebbsmith for not dining at 
the Grunwald — it was a perfectly legitimate one, 
dear Lucas. I was really expecting visitors. 

Lucas. 
[ Wonderinglij.'] Yes ? 



124 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

St. Olpherts. 

[ With a little cough and a drawn face."] Oh, I 
am not so well to-night. Damn these people for 
troubling me ! Damn 'em for keeping me hopping 
about! Damn 'em for every shoot I feel in my 
leg. Visitors from England — they've arrived. 

Lucas. 
But what — ? 

St. Olpherts. 

I shall die of gout some day, Lucas. Er — your 
wife is here. 



Sybil 



Lucas. 



St. Olpherts. 



She's come through with your brother. Sand- 
ford's a worse prig than ever — and I'm in shock- 
in' pain. 

Lucas. 
This — this is your doing! 



St. Olpherts. 

Yes. Damn you, don't keep me standing ! 

[Agnes enters, with Lucas's liat and coat. 
She stojis ahrupthj on seeing St. Ol- 
pherts. 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 125 

St. Olpherts. 

\Bij tire settee — playfulbj^ throur/h his pain.'] 
Ah, my clear Mrs. Ebbsmith, how can you have 
the heart to deceive an invalid, a poor wretch who 
begs you \_sitting on the settee] to allow him to sit 
down for a moment ? 

[Agnes dejjosits the hat aiicl coat. 

Agnes. 
Deceive ? — 

St. Olpherts. 

My friends arrive, I dine scrappily with them, 
and hurry to the Grlinwald thinking to catch you 
over your Zabajone. Dear lady, you haven't been 
near the Grunwald. 

Agnes. 

Your women faint sometimes, don't they ? 

St. Olpherts. 
My — ? [//i^j>am.] Oh, what rZo you mean ? 

Agnes. 

The women in your class of life ? 

St. Olpherts. 
Faint ? oh, yes, when there's occasion for it. 

Agnes. 

I'm hopelessly low-born ; I fainted involuntarily. 



126 THE NO TO RIO (JS AfRS. EBBSMITH. 

St. Olpherts. 

\_Moving nearer to her.'] Oh, my dear, pray for- 
give me. You've recovered ? \_She nods.~\ In- 
disposition agrees with you, evidently. Your 
colouring to-night is charming. \_Cou<j]iinfj.~\ You 
are — delightful — to — look at. 

[Gertrude enters, carrying a tray on 
ivlilch are a hoivl of soup, a small de- 
canter of whie, and accessories. She 
looks at St. Olpherts unconcernedly, 
then turns away and places the tray 
on a table. 

St. Olpherts. 
\_Quietly to Agnes.] Not a servant? 

Agnes. 

Oh, no. 

St. Olpherts. 

[Rising promptly.] Good God ! I beg your 
pardon. A friend ? 

Agnes. 
Yes. 

St. Olpherts. 

\Looking at Gertrude, critically.'] Very nice. 
\_Still looking at Gertrude, hut speaking to Agnes 
in undertones.] Married or — ? \_Turning to 
Agnes.] Married or — ? 

[Agnes has ivalked away. 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMJTH, 127 

Gertrude. 

\_To Lucas, looking round.'] It is draughty at 
this table. 

Lucas. 

\_Going to the table near the settee and collecting 
the tvriting materials.] Here — 

[Agnes joins Gertrude. 

St. Olpherts. 

\_Qaietli/ to Lucas.] Lucas — [Lucas ^oes ^0 
him.'] Who's that gal ? 

Lucas. 

\_To St. Olpherts.] An hotel acquaintance we 
made in Florence — Mrs. Thorpe. 

St. Olpherts. 
AVhere's the husband ? 

Lucas. 
A widow. 

St. Olpherts. 
You might — 

[Gertrude advances ivith the tray. 

Lucas. 

Mrs. Thorpe, the Duke of St. Olpherts asks me 
to present you to him. 

[Gertrude inclines her head to the Duke. 
Lucas places the tvritincj materials on 
another table. 



128 THE NOTORIOUS MRS, EBB SMITH. 

St. Olpherts. 

\_Llmj)ing up to Gertrude and handling the 
tnu/.'] I beg to be allowed to help you. \_At the 
t<ible.'\ The tray here ? 

Gertrude. 
Thank you. 

St. Olpherts. 

Ha, how clumsy I am ! We think it so gracious 
of you to look after our poor friend here who is 
not quite herself to-day. [To Agxes.] Come 
along, dear lady — everything is prepared for you. 
[jf'r> Gertrude.] You are here with — with your 
mother, I understand. 

Gertrude. 
My brother. 

St. Olpherts. 

Brother. Now, do tell me whether you find your 
— your little hotel comfortable. 

Gertrude. 

\_Looking at him steadily. ~\ We don't stay at 
one. 

St. Olpherts. 
Apartments ? 

Gertrude. 
Yes. 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 129 

St. Olpherts. 

Do you know, dear Mrs. Thorpe, I have always 
had the very strongest desire to live in lodgings in 
Venice ? 

Gp:rtrude. 

You should gratify it. Our quarters are rather 
humble ; we are in the Campo San Bartolomeo. 

St. Olpherts. 
But how delightful ! 

Gertrude. 
Why not come and see our rooms ? 

St. Olpherts. 

IBoiving.^ My dear young lady ! \_Producing 
• t pencil and writing upon his shirt-cuff.'] Campo 
San Bartolomeo — 

Gertrude. 
Five — four — nought — two. 

St. Olpherts. 

[ Writing.'] Five — four — nought — two. To- 
morrow afternoon ? [_She inclines her head.] Four 
o'clock ? 

Gertrude. 

Yes ; that would give the people ample time to 
tidy and clear up after us. 



I30 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

St. Olpherts. 
After you — ? 

Gertrude. 

After our departure. My brother and I leave 
early to-morrow morning. 

St. Olpherts. 

\^After a brief jjmise, imperturhahlij.'] A thousand 
thanks. May I impose myself so far upon you 
as to ask you to tell your landlord to expect me ? 
\_Takin<j up his hat and stick.'] We are allowing 
this soup to get cold. \_Joining Lucas.] Dear 
Lucas, you have something to say to me — ? 

Lucas. 

\_02)ening the door.'] Come into my room. 

\_Thei/ go out. The two wortien look at 
each other sUjmficantly. 

Agnes. 

You're a splendid woman. 

Gertrude. 
That's rather a bad man, I think. Now, dear — 
S^She places Agnes on the settee and sets 
the soup, etc., before Iter. Agnes eats. 

Gertrude. 

[^ Watching her closely.] So you have succeeded 
in coming to close quarters, as you expressed it, 
with him. 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 131 

Agnes. 
\_TaGituimly.~\ Yes. 

Gertrude. 
His second visit here to-day, I gather ? 

Agxes. 
Yes. 

Gertrude. 

His attitude towards you ; his presence here 
under any circumstances — it's all rather queer. 

Agnes. 

His code of behaviour is peculiarly his own. 

Gertrude. 
However, are you easier in your mind ? 

Agnes. 

\_Qalethj, hut with intensitij.'] I shall defeat 
him. I shall defeat him. 

Gertrude. 

Defeat him ? You will succeed in holding Mr. 
Cleeve, you mean ? 

Agnes. 

Oh, if you put it in that way — 



132 THE NOTORIOUS AIRS. EBBSMITH. 

Gertrude. 

Oh, come, I remember all you told me this after- 
noon. [ With disdain. ~\ So it has already arrived, 
then, at a simple struggle to hold Mr. Cleeve ? 

\_There is a pause. Agnes, ivithout an- 
sivering, stretches out her hand to the 
wine. Her hand shakes — she with- 
draws it helplessly. 

Gertrude. 
What do you want — wine ? 

[Agnes nods. Gertrude pours out wine 
and gives her the glass. Agnes drains 
it eagerly and replaces it. 

Gertrude. 
Agnes — 

Agnes. 
Yes? 

Gertrude. 

You are dressed very beautifully. 

Agnes. 

Do you think so ? 

Gertrude. 
Don't you know it ? A^'llo made you that gown ? 

Agnes. 
Bardini, 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 133 

Gertrude. 

I shouldn't have credited the little woinau with 
such excellent ideas. 

Agnes. 

Oh, Lucas gave her the idea when he — when 
he — 

Gertrude. 

When he ordered it ? 

Agnes. 

Yes. 

Gertrude. 

Oh, — the whole thing came as a surprise to 
you? 

Agnes. 
Er — quite. 

Gertrude. 

I noticed the box this afternoon, when I called. 

Agnes. 

Mr. Cleeve wishes me to appear more like — 
more like — 

Gertrude. 

An ordinary smart woman. \_Contemptuously.~\ 
Well, you ought to find no difficulty in managing 
that. You can make yourself very charming, it 
appears. 

[Agnes again reaches out a hand towards 
the ivine. Gertrude pours a very little 
wine into the wine-glass and takes nj) 
the glass ; Agnes holds out her hand to 
receive it. 



134 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH, 

Gertrude. 

Do you mind my drinking from your glass ? 

Agnes. 

\_Starinfj at //er.] No. 

[Gertrude empties the glass and then 
places it in a 7na7']xecl way, cm the side 
of the table furthest from Agnes. 

Gertrude. 

[With a little shinhlcr.'] Ugh! Ugh! [Agnes 
moves away from Gertrude, to the end of the 
settee, her head bowed, her hands clenched.~\ I 
have something to propose. Come home with me 
to-morrow. 

Agnes. 

\_Raising her head.^ Home ? — 

Gertrude. 

Ketherick. The very spot for a woman who 
wants to shut out things. Miles and miles of wild 
moorland ! For company, purple heath and moss- 
covered granite, in summer ; in winter, the moor- 
fowl and the snow glistening on top of the crags. 
Oh, and for open-air music, our little church owns 
the sweetest little peal of old bells ! — [Agnes 
rises, disturbed.'] Ah, I can't promise you tJieir 
silence ! Indeed, I'm very much afraid that on a 
still Sunday you can even hear the sound of the 
organ quite a long distance off. I am the organist 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 135 

when I'm at home. That's Ketherick. Will you 
come ? 

\_The distant tinkling of mandolin and 
guitar is again heard. 

Agxes. 

Listen to that. The mandolinisti ! You talk 
of the sound of your church-organ — and I hear 
his music. 

Gertrude. 

His music ? 

Agnes. 

The music he is fond of; the music that gives 
him the thoughts that please him, soothe him. 

Gertrude. 

\_Listeni7ig — humming the ivords of the air, con- 
temptouslT/.'] 

"Beir amore deli ! porgi V oreccliio, 
Ad un canto die parte dal cuore. ..." 

Lo ve-miisic ! 

Agnes. 

\^In a. low voice, staring upon the ground.'] Yes, 
love-music. 

[TAe door leading from Lucas's i^oom 
opens and St. Olpherts and Lucas 
are heard talking. Gertrude hastily 
goes out. Lucas enters ; the boyishness 
of manner has left him — he is pale 
and excited. 



136 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

Agnes. 
\_Ap]jTelienswehj.'\ What is the matter? 

Lucas. 

My wife is revealing quite a novel phase oi 
character. 

Agnes. 
Your wife — ? 

Lucas. 

The submissive mood. It's right that you 
should be told, Agnes. She is here, at the Danieli, 
with my brother Sandford. [St. Olpherts enters 
slowly.'] Yes, positively ! It appears that she 
has lent herself to a scheme of Sandford's [^glan- 
cing at St. Olpherts] and of — and of — 

St. Olpherts. 

Of Sandford's. 

Lucas. 

[To Agnes.] A plan of reconciliation. \_To 
St. Olpherts.] Tell Sybil that the submissive 
mood comes too late, by a year or so ! 

\_He }:}aGes to and fro. Agnes sits, ivitJt an 
expressionless face. 

Agnes. 

[Quietly to St. Olpherts.] The "friends" 
you were expecting, duke ? 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 137 

St. Olpherts. 
\_MeeMy.'\ Yes. \_Slie smiles at him scornfalhj. 

Lucas. 

Agnes, dear, you and I leave here early to- 
morrow. 

Agnes. 
Very well, Lucas. 

Lucas. 

\_To St. Olpherts.] Duke, will you be the 
bearer of a note from me to Sandford ? 

St. Olpherts. 

Certainly. 

Lucas. 

\_Going to the door of his room,.'] I'll write it at 
once. 

St. Olpherts. 

\_Raislng his voice.] You won't see Sandford 
then, dear Lucas, for a moment or two ? 

Lucas. 

No, no ; pray excuse me. 

[i/e [/OPS out. St. Olpherts advances 
to Agnes. The sound of the music 
dies air a I/. 



138 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 

St. Olpherts. 

\_Sripping his cloak off and tliroiring it njmn the 
head of the settee.^ Upon my soul, I think you've 
routed us ! 

A.GNES. 

Yes. 

St. Olpherts. 

\_Sittlng, hreaklng into a laugh.'] Ha, ha! he, 
he, he ! Sir Sandforcl and Mrs. Cleeve will be so 
angry. Such a devil of a journey for nothing ! 
Ho! \_Coughing.~\ Ho, ho, ho! 

Agnes. 

This was to be your grand coup. 

St. Olpherts. 
I admit it — I have been keeping this in reserve. 

Agnes. 

I see. A further term of cat-and-dog life for 
Lucas and this lady — but it would have served to 
dispose of me, you fondly imagined. I see. 

St. Olpherts. 

I knew your hold on him was weakening. \_She 
looks at him.'] You knew it too. \_She looks 
aiuay.] He was beginning to find out that a 
dowdy demagogue is not the cheeriest person to 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 139 

live with. I repeat, you're a dooced clever woman, 
my dear. \_Slie rises, ivith an impatient shake of 
her hod(/, and ivalks past him, he following her 
with his ei/es.'] And a handsome one, into the 
bargain. 

Agxes. 
Tsch ! 

St. Olpherts. 

Tell me, when did you make up your mind to 
transform yourself ? 

Agxes. 

Suddenly, after our interview this afternoon ; 
after what you said — 

St. Olpherts. 
Oh! — 

Agxes. 

[With a little shiver.^ An impulse. 

St. Olpherts. 

Impulse doesn't account for the possession of 
those gorgeous trappings. 

Agxes. 

These rags ? A surprise gift from Lucas, to- 
day. 

St. Olpherts. 

Really, my dear, I believe I've helped to bring 
about my own defeat. \_Laugliing softly.'] Ho, 



I40 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 

ho, ho ! How disgusted the Cleeve family will be ! 
Ha, ha! \^Testihj.'\ Come, why don't you smile 
— laugh ? You can afford to do so ! Show your 
pretty white teeth ! laugh ! 

Agnes. 
[Hysterically.'] Ha, ha, ha ! Ha ! 

St. Olpherts. 

\_Gr inning. ~\ That's better ! 

\_Piishing the cigarette-box towards hiTn, 
she takes a cigarette and jAaces it be- 
tween her lips. He also takes a cigar- 
ette gaily. They smoke — she standing^ 
with an elbow resting upon the topj of 
the stove, looking down upon him. 

St. Olpherts. 

\_As he lights his cigarette.'] This isn't explo 
sive, I hope ? No nitric and sulphuric acid, with 
glycerine, eh ? \_Eyeing her wonderingly and ad- 
rniringly.] By Jove ! Which is yon ? The shabby, 
shapeless rebel who entertained me this afternoon, 
or — \_kissing the tips of his fingers to her] or 
that ? 

Agnes. 

This — this. [^Seating herself, slowly and thought- 
fidly, facing the stove, her back turned to him.] 
My sex has found me out. 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 141 

St. Olpherts. 

Ha! tsch! \_Between his teeth.~\ Damn it, for 
your sake I almost wish Lucas was a different sort 
of feller ! 

Agnes. 

\Tartlij to herself, ivith intensity. ~\ Nothing mat- 
ters now — not even that. He's mine. He would 
have died but for me. I gave him life. He is my 
child, my husband, my lover, my bread, my day- 
light — all — everything. Mine, mine. 

St. Olpherts. 

\_Rising and limping over to her.'] Good luck, 
my girl. 

Agnes. 
Thanks ! 

St. Olpherts. 

I'm rather sorry for you. This sort of triumph 
is short-lived, you knov/. 

Agnes. 

\_Turni}i(j to Jiim.~\ I know. But I shall fight 
for every moment that prolongs it. This is my 
hour. 

St. Olpherts. 

Your hour — ? 

Agxes. 
There's only one hour in a woman's life. 



142 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

St. Olphp:rts. 
One — ? 

Agxes. 

One supreme hour. Her poor life is like the 
arch of a crescent ; so many years lead up to that 
hour, so many weary years decline from it. No 
matter what she may strive for, there is a moment 
when Circumstance taps her upon the shoulder and 
says, " Woman, this hour is the best that Earth has 
to spare you." It may come to her in calm or in 
tempest, lighted by a steady radiance or by the 
glitter of evil stars ; but however it comes, be it 
good or evil, it is her hour — let her dwell upon 
every second of it ! 

St. Olpherts. 

And this little victory of yours — the possession 
of this man ; you think this is the best that earth 
can spare you ? \^She nods, slowly and deliberately, 
with fixed eyes.~\ Dear me, how amusin' you 
women are ! And in your dowdy days you had 
ambitions ! \_SJie looks at hhn suddenly?^ They 
were of a queer, gunpowder-and-f aggot sort — but 
they were ambitions. 

Agnes. 

[^Startiiiff ujy.^ Oh! — [^Putting her hands to 
her brows. \ Oh! — [Faciriy hini.~\ Ambitions! 
Yes, yes ! You're right ! Once, long ago, I hoped 
that my hour would be very different from this. 
Ambitions ! I have seen myself, standing, hum- 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 143 

bly clad, looking down upon a dense, swaying 
crowd — a scarlet flag for my background. I have 
seen the responsive look upon thousands of white, 
eager, hungry faces, and I've heard the great, 
hoarse shout of welcome as I have seized my flag 
and hurried down amongst the people — to be 
given a place with their leaders ! J ! With the 
leaders, the leaders ! Yes, that is what I once 
hoped would be my hour! \^Her voice sinking — 
iveakly.~\ But this is my hour. 

St. Olpherts. 

[^After a brief jmuse.^ Well, my dear, when it's 
over, you'll have the satisfaction of counting the 
departing footsteps of a ruined man. 

Agnes. 
Kuined — ! 

St. Olpherts. 

Yes, there's great compensation in that — for 
women. 

Agnes. 

\_Sitti}i(j.~\ Why do you suggest he'll be ruined 
through me? \_Uneasilij.'] At any rate, he'd 
ended his old career before we met. 

St. Olpherts. 

Pardon me ; it's not too late now for him to 
resume that career. The threads are not quite 
broken yet. 

Agnes. 

Oh, the scandal in London — 



144 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH, 

St. Olpherts. 

Would be dispelled by this sham reconciliation 
with his wife. 

Agnes. 

\_Looking at him.'] Sham — ? 

St. Olpherts. 

Why, of course. All we desired to arrange was 
that for the future their household should be con- 
ducted strictly a la mode. 

Agnes. 
A la mode ? 

St. Olpherts. 

\_Be]ilnd the settee, looking down upon her\~\ Mr. 
Cleeve in one quarter of the house, Mrs. Cleeve in 
another. 

Agnes. 
Oh, yes. 

St. Olpherts. 

A proper aspect to the world, combined with 
freedom on both sides. It's a more decorous sys- 
tem than the aggressive Free Union you once 
advocated ; and it's much in vogue at my end of 
the town. 

Agnes. 

Your plan was a little more subtle than I gave 
you credit for. This was to be your method of 
getting rid of me ! 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 145 

St. Olpherts. 

No, no. Don't you understand ? With regard 
to yourself, we could have arrived at a compromise. 

Agnes. 
A compromise ? 

St. Olpherts. 

It would have made us quite happy to see you 
placed upon a — upon a somewhat different foot- 
ing. 

Agnes. 

What kind of — footing. 

St. Olpherts. 

The suburban villa, the little garden, a couple of 
discreet servants — everything a la mode. 

[ There is a brief j^ciuse. Then she rises 
and tvalks across the room, outwardly 
calm, but twisting her hands. 

Agxes. 
Well, you've had Mr. Cleeve's answer to that. 

St. Olpherts. 
Yes. 

Agnes. 

AVhich finally disposes of the whole matter — 
disposes of it — 



146 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

St. Olpherts. 

Completely. \_Struck by an idea.~\ Unless 
you — I 

Agxes. 

\_Tu7ming to him.'] Unless / — / 

St. Olpherts. 
Unless you — 

Agnes. 

\_After a moments 2^ause.'] What did Lucas say 
to you when you — ? 

St. Olpherts. 

He said he knew you'd never make that sacrifice 
for him — \_She 2yulls herself up rigidly.'] So he 
declined to pain you by asking you to do it. 

Agnes. 

\_Crossing swiftly to the settee and speaking 
straight into his face.] That's a lie ! 

St. Olpherts. 
Keep your temper, my dear. 

Agxes. 

\_Passionately.'] His love may not last — it 
won't! — but at this moment he loves me better 
than that ! He wouldn't make a mere light thing 
of me ! 



THE XOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 147 

St. Olphekts. 

Wouldn't he ! You try him ! 

Agxes. 
What ! 

St. Olphekts. 

You put him to the test ! 

Agxes. 

\With her hands to her brows. ^ Oh — ! 

St. Olphekts. 
No, no — don't! 

Agnes. 
[Fauitli/.] ^Vhy ? 

St. Olphekts. 

I like you. Damn hiin — you deserve to live 
your hour I 

[Lucas enters, with a letter hi his hand. 
Agnes sits. 

Lucas. 

\_Givin(j St. Olphekts the letter.'] Thanks. 

[St. Olphekts pockets the letter and 
picks up his cloak; Lucas assisting 
him. 



148 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

Agnes. 
[ Outwardly cabii.^ Oh — Lucas — 

Lucas. 
Yes? 

Agnes. 

The duke has been — has been — telling me — 

Lucas. 
What, dear ? 

Agnes. 

The sort of arrangement proposed for your go- 
ing back to London. 

Lucas. 
Oh, my brother's brilliant idea ! 

Agnes. 

Acquiesced in by your wife. 

[St. Olpherts strolls mv ay from them. 

Lucas. 

Certainly ; as I anticipated, she has become in- 
tensely dissatisfied with her position. 

Agnes. 

And it would be quite possible, it seems, for you 
to resume your old career ? 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBS M IT H. 149 

Lucas. 

Just barely possible — well, for the moment, 
quite possible. 

Agnes. 
Quite possible. 

Lucas. 

I haven't, formally, made a sign to my political 
friends yet. It's a task one leaves to the last. 
I shall do so now, at once. My people have been 
busying themselves, it appears, in reporting that I 
shall return to London directly my health is fully 
re-established. 

Agnes. 

In the hope ? — Oh, yes. 

Lucas. 

Hoping they'd be able to separate us before it 
was too — too late. 

Agnes. 
Which hope they've now relinquished ? 

Lucas. 
Apparently. 

Agnes. 

They're prepared to accept a — a compromise, I 
hear ? 

Lucas. 
Ha, yes ! 



150 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

Agxes. 
A compromise in my favour ? 

Lucas. 

[^Hesitatingly.'] They suggest — 

Agnes. 

Yes, yes, I know. After all, your old career 
was — a success. You made your mark, as you 
were saying the other day. You did make your 
mark. [He laaUcs up mid doicu, restlesslij, ah- 
stractedhj, Iter eyes folio ir lug Jiim.'] You were 
generally spoken of, accepted, as a Coming Man. 
The Coming Man, often, Avasn't it ? 

Lucas. 

[With an impatient wave of the hand.] That 
doesn't matter ! 

Agnes. 
And now you are giving it up — giving it all up. 

[He sits on the settee, resting his elbow on 
his knee, pushing his hand through his 
hair. 

Lucas. 

But — but you believe I shall succeed equally 
well in this new career of mine ? 

Agnes. 

[Looking at him stonil//.] There's the risk, you 
must remember. 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMTTH. 151 

Lucas. 

Obviously, there's the risk. Why do you say 
all this to me now ? 

Agnes. 

Because now is the opportunity to — to go back. 

Lucas. 
\_Scornfally.'] Opportunity — ? 

Agxes. 

An excellent one. You're so strong and well 
now. 

Lucas. 
Thanks to jow. 

Agnes. 

[^Staring before her.'\ Well — I did nurse you 
carefully, didn't I ? 

Lucas. 

But I don't understand you. You are surely 
not proposing to — to — break with me ? 

Agnes. 

No — I — I — I was only thinking that you — 
you might see something in this suggestion of a 
compromise. 

[Lucas glances at St. Olpherts, whose 
hack is turned to them, hut who instinc- 
tively looks round, then goes and sits hy 
the ivindow. 



152 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

Lucas. 

\Looking at her searchmgly.'\ Well, but — 
you — / 

Agnes. 

[ With assumed indifference.'] Oh, I — ! 

Lucas. 
Yoic ! 

Agnes. 

Lucas, don't — don't make nie paramount. 

\_He moves to the end of tlie settee, show- 
ing by a look that he desires her to sit 
by him. After a vionient^s hesitatio7i 
she takes her place beside hhn. 

Lucas. 

[/7^ a7i undertone."] I do make you paramount, 
I do. My dear girl, under any circumstances you 
would still be everything to me — always. \_Slie 
nods with a vacant look.] There would have to 
be this pretence of an establishment of mine — 
that would have to be faced ; the whited sepulchre, 
the mockery of dinners and receptions and so on. 
But it would be to you I should fly for sympathy, 
encouragement, rest. 

Agnes. 
Even if you were ill again — ? 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 153 

Lucas. 

Even then, if it were practicable — if it could be 
— if it — 

Agnes. 

\_Lookinfj him in the face. '\ Well — ? 

Lucas. 
[^Avoiding her gaze.'] Yes, dear ? 

Agxes. 

What do you say, then, to asking the duke to 
give you back that letter to your brother ? 

Lucas. 

It wouldn't settle matters, simply destroying 
that letter. Sandford begs me to go round to the 
Danieli to-night^ to — to — 

Agnes. 

To see him ? [Lucas 7iods.'] And her ? [Re 
shrugs his shoulders.] At what time ? Was any 
time specified ? 

Lucas. 
Half -past nine. 

Agxes. 
I — I haven't my watch on. 

Lucas. 
[Referring to his watch.] Xine twenty-five. 



154 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 

Agxes. 
You can almost manage it — if you'd like to go. 

Lucas. 

Oh, let them wait a few minutes for me ; that 
won't hurt them. 

Agnes. 

\_Dazed.~\ Let me see — I did fetch your hat 
and coat — 

. \_She rises and icalks mechanicaUy, stiiin- 
hlinrj against a chair. Lucas looks tq), 
alarmed ; St. Olpherts rises. 

Agxes. 

\_Replacing the chair.'] It's all right; I didn't 
notice this. \_Brin(jing Lucas's hat and coat, and 
assisting him with the latter.'] How long will 
you be ? 

Lucas. 

Kot more than half an hour. An nour at the 
outside. 

Agnes. 

\_Arra7iging his neck-handkerchief.] Keep this 
so. 

Lucas. 

Er — if — if I — if we — 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 155 

Agnes. 

The duke is waiting. 

[Lucas turns away^ and joins St. Ol- 

PHERTS. 

Lucas. 

\_To him, in a loiv voice.~\ I am going back to 
the hotel with you. 

St. Olpherts. 

Oh, are you ? 

\_The door opens and Fortune enters, fol- 
lowed hy Amos Winterfield. For- 
tune retires. 

Amos. 

\_To Lucas, sternly. '\ Is my sister still here, 
may I ask ? 

[Lucas looks to Agnes interrogatively. 
She inclines her head. 

Amos. 

I should like her to know that I am waiting for 
her. [Agnes goes out. 

Lucas. 

\_To Amos.] Pray excuse me. 

[Amos draws back. St. Olpherts passes 
out. At the door, Lucas pauses, and 
bows slightly to Amos, who retiwns his 



156 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

how in the samie fashion, then Lucas 
follows St. Olpherts. Then Ger- 
trude enters, ivearing her hat and 
mantle. Agnes follows ; her move- 
ments are unsteady, and there is a wild 
look in her eyes. 

Gertrude. 
You've come to fetch me, Amos ? 

[ZTe assents by a nod. 

Amos. 

\To Agnes.] I'm sorry to learn from Dr. Kirke 
that you've been ill. I hope you're better. 

Agnes. 
Thank you, I am quite well. 

[Turning away, Gertrude watching her. 

Amos. 
[Gruffly. '\ Are you ready, Gertrude ? 

Gertrude. 
No, dear, not yet. I want you to help me. 

Amos. 
In what way ? 

Gertrude. 
I want you to join me in persuading Mrs. Ebb- 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 157 

smith — mij friend, Mrs. Ebbsuiith — to come to 
Ketherick with us. 

Amos. 
My clear sister — ! 

Gertrude. 

\_Firmhj.'] Please, Amos ! 

Agnes. 

Stop a moment ! Mr. Winterfield, your sister 
doesn't in the least understand how matters are 
with me. I am returning to England — but with 
Mr. Cleeve. [Eecklessbj.] Oh, you'd hear of it 
eventually ! He is reconciled to his wife. 

Gertrude. 
Oh — ! Then, surely, you — 

Agnes. 

No. The reconciliation goes no further than 
mere outward appearances. [^Turning away.'] He 
relies upon me as much as ever. [Beatinr/ her 
hands together jmssionatelg.] He can't spare me 
— can't spare me ! 

Amos. 

[/?i a low voice to Gertrude.] Are you satis- 
fied ? 

Gertrude. 

I suspected something of the kind. [Going to 



158 THE XOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

Agxes, gripping her wrist tightlij.~\ Pull yourself 
out of the mud ! Get up — out of the mud ! 

Agxes. 
I have no will to — no desire to ! 

Gertrude. 
You mad thing ! 

A(;xKS. 

[Releasing Itersclf, facing Gektkupe and Amos.] 
You are only breaking in upon my hour ! 

Gertrude. 
Your hour — ? 

A(iXES. 

\_Waving them au'ay.'\ I ask you to go! to go ! 
[Gertrude returns to Amos. 



Amo 



My dear Gertrude, you see what our position is 
here. If ^Irs. Ebbsmith asks for our help, it is 
our duty to give it. 

Gertrude. 
It is especially my duty, Amos. 

Amos. 

And I should have thought it especially mine. 
However, Mrs. Ebbsmith appears to firmly decline 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITIL 159 

our help. And at this point, I confess, I would 
rather you left it — ijou^ at least. 

Gkktrudp:. 

You would rather / left it — I, the virtuous, 
unsoiled woman ! Yes, I am a virtuous woman, 
Amos ; and it strikes you as odd, I suppose — my 
insisting upon friendship with her. But, look 
here, both of you ! I'll tell you a secret. You 
never knew it, Amos, my dear ; I never allowed 
anybody to suspect it — 

Amos. 

Never knew — what ? 

Gertrude. 

The sort of married life mine was. It didn't 
last long, but it was dreadful, almost intolerable. 

Amos. 
Gertrude ! 

Gertrude. 

After the first few weeks — weeks, not months ! 
after the first few weeks of it, my husband treated 
me as cruelly — \turnin(j to Agnes] just as cruelly, 
I do believe, as your husband treated you. [Amos 
makes a movement showing const er nation. '\ Wait ! 
Now, then ! There was another man — one I 
loved — one I couldn't help loving ! I could have 
found release with him, perliaps happiness of a 
kind. I resisted, came through it. They're dead 



i6o THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

— the two are dead ! And here I am, a virtuous, 
reputable woman ; saved by the blessed merc}^ of 
Heaven ! There, you are not surprised any longer, 
Amos ! [Pointing to Agnes. J " My friend, Mrs. 
Ebbsmith ! " \_Bu7'stinrj into tears.~\ Oh ! Oh, if 
my little boy had been spared to me, he should 
have grown up tender to women — tender to 
women ! he should, he should — ! 

[ She sits upon the settee, weejnwj. There 
is a short silence. 

Amos. 

Mrs. Ebbsmith, when I came here to-night I 
was angry with Gertrude — not altogether, I hope, 
for being in your company. But I was certainly 
angry with her for visiting you without my knowl- 
edge. I think I sometimes forget that she is 
eight and twenty, not eighteen. Well, now I offer 
to delay our journey home for a few da3^s — if you 
hold out the faintest hope that her companionship 
is likely to aid you in any way. 

[Agnes, standing motionless, makes no 
response. Amos crosses to her and, as 
he passes Gertrude, Jlc lets his hand 
drop over her shoulder; she clasps it, 
then rises and moves to a chair where 
she sits, crying silently. 

Amos. 

\_By Agnes's side — in a loiv voice.~\ You heard 
what she said. Saved by the mercy of Heaven. 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. i6i 

Agnes. 

Yes, but she can feel that. 

Amos. 

You felt so once. 

Agnes. 
Once — ! 

Amos. 

You have, in years gone by, asked for help upon 
your knees. 

Agnes. 
It never carne. 

Amos. 
Repeat your cry. 

Agnes. 
There would be no answer. 

Amos. 
Repeat it ! 

Agnes. 

{^Turning n-ijon him.] If miracles coii/cl happen ! 
If "help," as you term it, did come! Do you 
know what " help " would mean to me ? 

Amos. 
What—! 

Agnes. 

It would take the last crumb from me ! 



1 62 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

Amos. 
This man's — protection ? 

Agnes. 
{Defiantly.'^ Yes ! 

Amos. 
Oh, Mrs. Ebbsmith — ! 

Agnes. 

{Foint'mg to the door.~\ Well, I've asked you 
both to leave me, haven't I ! [Pointing at Ger- 
trude who has risen.'] The man site loves is dead 
and gone ! She can moralize — ! \_Sitting, beating 
upon the settee with her hands.'] Leave me ! 

[Amos joi^is Gertrude. 

Gertrude. 
We'll go, Amos. 

\_He takes from his p)ocket a small leather- 
hound hook ; the cover is well-icorn and 
shabby. 

Amos. 

[ Writing upon the fly-leaf of the book tvith a 
piencil.] I am writing our address here, Mrs. Ebb- 
smith. 

Agnes. 

\_In a hard voice.] I already have it. 

[Gertrude glances at the book, over 
Amos's shoulder, and looks at him tvon- 
deringly. 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMTTH. 163 

Amos. 

\_L(iyinr/ the hook on the settee by Agnes's side.~\ 
You might forget it. 

\_SJie stares at the hook with knitted brows 
for a 7uonie?it, then stretches out her 
ha?id and opens it. 

Agnes. 

[ Withdrawing her liand sharjj/y.^ No — I don't 
accept your gift. 

Amos. 

The address of two friends is upon the fly-leaf. 

Agnes. 

I thank both of you — but 3^ou shall never be 
troubled again by me. \_Rising, jiointing to the 
book.'] Take that away ! {^Sitting facing the stove, 
the door of which she opens, replenishing the fire — 
excitedly. ~\ Mr. Cleeve may be back soon ; it 
would be disagreeable to you all to meet again. 

[Gertrude gently pushes Amos aside, 
and p)ichi7ig up the book froin the settee, 
pflaces it vjyon the table. 

Gertrude. 

[To Agnes — pointing to the book.] This 
frightens you. Simple print and paper, so you 
pretend to regard it — but it frightens you. \JVith 
a (piick moveynent, Agnes twists her chair round 
and faces Gertrude y?erce/y/.] I called you a mad 



1 64 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

thing just now. A week ago I did think you half- 
mad — a poor, ill-used creature, a visionary, a 
moral woman living immorally; yet, in spite of 
all, a woman to be loved and pitied. But now I'm 
beginning to think that you're only frail — wanton. 
Oh, you're not so mad as not to know you're 
wicked! \_Tappincj the book forcibly.'] And so 
this frightens you ! 

Agnes. 

You're right ! Wanton ! That's what I've be- 
come ! And I'm in my right senses, as you say. 
I suppose I was mad once for a little time, years 
ago. And do you know what drove me so ? [Strik- 
ing the book ivlth her fist. ~\ It was tliat — that! 

Gertrude. 
That! 

Agnes. 

I'd trusted in it, clung to it, and it failed me. 
Never once did it stop my ears to the sound of a 
curse; when I was beaten it didn't make the blows 
a whit the lighter; it never healed my bruised 
flesh, my bruised spirit ! Yes, that drove me dis- 
tracted for a while ; but I'm sane now — now it is 
yoH that are mad, mad to believe ! You foolish 
people, not to know [beating her breast and fore- 
head] that Hell or Heaven is here and here ! 
[Poijiting to the book.] Take it ! 

[Gertrude turns Qicay and joins Amos, 
and they walk quickly to tlie door. 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 165 

Agnes. 
\_Franticalhj.~\ I'll not endure the sight of it — ! 

\_As they reach the door, Gertrude looks 
back and sees Agnes hurl the book into 
the fire. They go out. Agnes starts 
to her feet and stands motionless for a 
moment, her head bent, her fingers 
twisted in her hair. Then she raises 
her head ; the expression of her face has 
changed to a look of fright and horror. 
Uttering a loud crij, she hastens to the 
stove and, thrusting her arm into the 
fire, drags ont the book. Gertrude 
and Amos re-enter quickly in alarm. 

Gertrude. 
Agnes — ! 

\_They .'^tand looking at Agnes, ivho is 
kneeling upon the ground, clutching the 
charred book. 



end of the third act. 



1 66 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 



THE FOURTH ACT. 

The scene is an crpcvrtment hi the dnnj^o San Bar- 
tolomeo. The ivalls are of j^laster ; the ceiling 
is frescoed in cheaj) modern-Italian fashion. 
An arch spans the room, at tlie further end of 
ivhicli is a door leading to Jgnes\s hedroom ; 
to the left, and behind the svjijjort of the arch, 
is an exit on to a landing, while a nearer door, 
on the same side, oj^ens into another room. The 
furniture, and the feiu objects attached to the 
walls, are characteristic of a moderate-priced 
Venetian lodging. Placed about the room, how- 
ever, are photographs in frames, and pretty 
knick-knacks personal to Gertrude, and a 
travelling trunk and hag are also to be seen. 
The shutters of the tu'o nearer windows arc 
closed ; a broad stream of moonlight, coming 
through the further windotc, foods the upper 
part of the room. 

Hephzibah, a grey-linired north-country-wo7nan 
dressed as a lodges maid, is collecting the 
k7iiek-knacks and j^ladnff them in the trav- 
elling-hag. After a moment or two, Gertrude 
entei's hy the further door. 

Gertrude. 

[At the partly closed door, speakiiig into the fur- 
ther room.\ I'll come back to you in a little while, 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 167 

Agnes. \_Closlng the door and addressing Hephzi- 
BAH.] How are you getting on, Heppy ? 

Hephzibah. 

A 'reet, Miss Gerty. I'm puttin' together a' the 
sma' knick-knacks, to lay them wi' the claes i' th' 
trunks. 

Gertrude. 

[^Taking some jj/iofograj^hs from the table and 
bringing them to Hephzibah.] We leave here at 
a quarter to eight in the morning; not a minute 
later. 

Hephzibah. 

Aye. Will there be much to pack for Mistress 
Cleeve ? 

Gertrude. 

Nothing at all. Besides her hand-bag, she has 
only the one box. 

Hephzibah. 

\_Pointlng to the trunk.'] ISTay, nobbut that 
thing ! 

Gertrude. 

Yes, nobbut that. I packed that for her at the 
Palazzo. 

Hephzibah. 

Eh, it won't gi' us ower much trouble to maid 
Mistress Cleeve when we get her hame. 



1 68 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 

Gertrude. 

Heppy, we are not going to call — my friend — 
" Mrs. Cleeve." 

Hephzibah. 

Nay ! what will thee call her ? 

Gertrude. 

I'll tell you — by and by. Kemember, she must 
never, never be reminded of the name. 

Hephzibah. 

Aye, I'll be maist carefu'. Poor leddy ! After 
the way she tended tljat husband o' hers in Flor- 
ence neet and day, neet and day ! 

Gertrude. 
The world's full of unhappiness, Heppy. 

Hephzibah. 

The world's full o' husbands. I canna' bide 'em. 
They're true eneugh when they're ailin' — but a 
lass can't keep her Jo always sick. Hey, Miss 
Gerty ! Do f orgie your auld Heppy ! 

Gertrude. 
For what ? 

Hephzibah. 

Why, your own man, so I've heered, ne'er had 
as much as a bit headache till he caught his fever 
and died o't. 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 169 

Gertrude. 

No, I never knew Captain Thorpe to complain 
of an ache or a pain. 

Hephzibah. 

And he was a rare, bonny husband to thee, if a' 
tales be true. 

Gertrude. 

Yes, Heppy. \_Listening, startled.'^ Who's 
this ? 

Hephzibah. 

\_Golng and looking.^ Maister Amos. 

[Amos enters hriskly, 

Amos. 
[To Gertrude.] How is she? 

Gertrude. 

^^Assisthig hlni to remove his overcoat.'] More as 
she used to be ; so still, so gentle. She's reading. 

Amos. 
\_Looklng at her significa7itly.~\ Reading? 

Gertrude. 



Reading. 



\_He sits humming a tune, while Heppy 
takes off his shoes and gives him his 
slippers. 



I70 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

Hephzibah. 

Eh, Maister Amos, it's good to see thee sae glad- 
some. 

Amos. 

Home, Heppy, home ! 

Hephzibah. 

Aye, hame ! 

Amos 

With our savings ! 

Hephzibah. 

Thy savings — ! 

Amos. 

Tsch ! get on with your packing. 

[Hephzibah ^70^5 out^ carrymrj the traveU 
ling-hag and Amos's shoes. He ex- 
changes the coat he is wearing for a 
shabby little black jacket which Ger- 
trude brings him. 

Gertrude. 
\_Filling Amos's 2)W^'~\ ^^^^11, dear ! Go on ! 

Amos. 
Well, I've seen them. 

Gertrude. 
Them — ? 



THE iXOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 171 

Amos. 

The duke and Sir Sand ford Cleeve. 

Gertrude. 

At the hotel ? 

Amos. 

I found them sitting together in the hall, smok- 
ing, listening to some music. 

Gertrude. 

Quite contented with the arrangement they be- 
lieved they had brought about. 

Amos. 

Apparently so. Especially the baronet — a poor, 
cadaverous creature. 

Gertrude. 
Where was Mr. Cleeve ? 

Amos. 

He had been there, had an interview with his 
wife, and departed. 

Gertrude. 

Then by this time he has discovered that Mrs. 
Ebbsmitli has left him ? 

Amos. 

I suppose so. 



172 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 

Gertrude. 

Well, well ! the duke and the cadaverous bar- 
onet ? 

Amos. 

Oh, I told them I considered it my duty to let 
them know that the position of affairs had sud- 
denly become altered. \_SJie jjuts Ms jnpa in Iris 
mouth and strikes a match.'] That, in point of 
fact, Mrs. Ebbsmith had ceased to be an element 
in their scheme for re-establishing Mr. Cleeve's 
household. 

Gertrude. 

\_Holding a Ivjld to his pipe."^ Did the}^ inquire 
as to her movements ? 

Amos. 
The duke did — guessed we had taken her. 

Gertrude. 

What did they say to that ? 

Amos. 

The baronet asked me whether I was the chap- 
lain of a Home for — \_ang)''ilij~\ ah ! 

Gertrude. 
Brute ! And then ? 

Amos. 
Then they suggested that I ought hardly to 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 173 

leave them to make the necessary explanations to 
their relative, Mr. Lucas Cleeve. 

Gertrude. 

Yes — well? 

Amos. 

I replied that I fervently hoped I should never 
set eyes on their relative again. 

Gertrude. 

\_Gleefullij.-\ Ha! 

Amos. 

But that Mrs. Ebbsmith had left a letter behind 
her at the Palazzo Arconati, addressed to that gen- 
tleman, which I presumed contained as full an ex- 
planation as he could desire. 

Gertrude. 
Oh, Amos — ! 

Amos. 
Eh? 

Gertrude. 

You're mistaken there, dear ; it was no letter. 

Amos. 
No letter—? 

Gertrude. 
Simply four shakily written words. 



174 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 

Amos. 
Only four words ! 

Gertrude. 

'^ My — hour — is — over." [Hephzibah enters 
with a card on a little tray. Gertrude reads the 
card and utter'S an exclamation. Taking the card 
— U7ider her breath.^ Amos! 

[He goes to her ; they stare at the card 
together. 

Amos. 

[To Hephzibah.] Certainly. 

[Hephzibah goes out, the7i returns with 
the Duke of St. Olpherts, and re- 
tires. St. Olpherts hoivs graciously 
to Gertrude, and, more formall to 
Amos. 

Amos. 
Pray sit down. 

[St. Olpherts seats himself on the settee. 

St. Olpherts. 

Oil, my dear sir ! If I may use such an expres- 
sion in your presence — here is the devil to pay ! 

Amos. 
[To St. Olpherts.] You don't mind my pipe? 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 175 

[St. Olpherts waves a hand pleasantlij.~\ And 
I don't mind your expression. \_Sitting by the 
tahle.~\ The devil to pay ? 

St. Olpherts. 

This, I daresay well-intentioned, interference of 
yours has brought about some very unpleasant 
results. Mr. Cleeve returns to the Palazzo Arco- 
nati and finds that Mrs. Ebbsmith has flown. 



Amos. 
That result, at least, was inevitable. 

St. Olpherts. 

Whereupon he hurries back to the Danieli and 
denounces us all for a set of conspirators. 

Amos. 

Your Grace doesn't complain of the injustice of 
that charge ? 

St. Olpherts. 

\_Snillingly.'] No, no, I don't complain. But 
the brother — the wife ! Just when they ima- 
gined they had bagged the truant — there's the 
sting ! 

Gertrude. 

Oh, then Mr. Cleeve now refuses to carry out 
his part of the shameful arrangement ? 



176 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

St. Olpherts. 

Absolutely. \Rising^ taking a chair, and placing 
it }>ij the settee.'] Come into this, dear Mrs. 
Thorn — ! 

Amos. 
Thorpe. 

St. Olpherts. 

Come into this! \_Sitting again.~\ You under- 
stand the sort of man we have to deal with in Mr. 
Cleeve. 

Gertrude. 

\_Sitting.'] A man who prizes a woman when he 
has lost her. 

St. Olpherts. 
Precisely. 

Gertrude. 

Men don't relish, I suppose, being cast off by 
women. 

St. Olpherts. 

It's an inversion of the picturesque ; the male 
abandoned is not a pathetic figure. At any rate, 
our poor Lucas is now raving fidelity to Mrs. 
Ebbsmith. 

Gertrude. 

\Indujnantly . ] Ah — ! 

St. Olpherts. 

If you please, he cannot, will not, exist without 
her. Reputation, fame, fortune, are nothing when 



THE NOTORIOUS A/RS. EBBSMITH. 177 

weighed against — Mrs. Ebbsmith. And we may 
go to perdition, so that he recovers — Mrs. Ebb- 
smith. 

Amos. 

Well— to be plain — you're not asking us to 
sympathize with Mrs. Cleeve and her brother-in- 
law over their defeat? 

St. Olpherts. 

Certainly not. All I ask, INIr. Winterfield, is 
that you will raise no obstacle to a meeting be- 
tween Mrs. Cleeve and — and — 

Gertrude. 

No! 

[St. Olpherts sujnifies assent; Ger- 
trude makes a movement. 

St. Olpherts. 
\_To Jier.~\ Don't go. 

Amos. 
The object of such a meeting ? 

St. Olpherts. 

Mrs. Cleeve desires to make a direct, personal 
appeal to Mrs. Ebbsmith. 

Gertrude. 

Oh, what kind of woman can this Mrs. Cleeve 
be? 



178 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

St. Olpherts. 

A woman of character, who sets herself to ac- 
complish a certain task — 

Gertrude. 

Character ! 

Amos. 
Hush, Gerty ! 

St. Olpherts. 

And who gathers her skirts tightly round her 
and gently tip-toes into the mire. 

Amos. 

To i)ut it clearly — in order to get her unfaith- 
ful husband back to London, Mrs. Cleeve would 
deliberately employ this weak, unhappy woman as 
a lure. 

St. Olpherts. 

Perhaps Mrs. Cleeve is an unhappy woman. 

Gertrude. 
What work for a wife ! 

St. Olpherts. 

Wife — nonsense ! She is only married to 
Cleeve. 

Amos. 

[Walking up and doivn.'] It is proposed that 
this meeting should take place — when ? 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 179 

St. Olpherts. 

I have brought Sir Sandford and Mrs. Cleeve 
with me. \_Pointing toward the outer door. ~\ They 
are — 

Amos. 
If I decline ? 

St. Olpherts. 

It's known you leave for Milan at a quarter to 
nine in the morning ; there might be some sort of 
foolish, inconvenient scene at the station. 

Amos. 

Surely your Grace — ? 

St. Olpherts. 

Oh, no, I shall be in bed at that hour. I mean 
between the women, perhaps — and Mr. Cleeve. 
\_Golng to Amos.] Come, come, sir, you can't 
abduct Mrs. Ebbsmith — nor can we. Nor must 
you gag her. [Amos appears angry and per- 
jdexed.'] Pray be reasonable. Let her speak out 
for herself, here, finall}^, and settle the business. 
Come, sir, come ! 

Amos. 

\_Going to Gertrude, and speaking in a low 
voice.'\ Ask her. [Gertrude ^oe^-o^^i.] Cleeve! 
Where is he while this poor creature's body and 
soul are being played for ? You have told him 
that she is with us ? 



i8o THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

St. Olphekts. 
No, / haven't. 

Amos. 

He must suspect it. 

St. Olpherts. 

Well, candidly, Mr. Winterfield, Mr. Cleeve is 
just now employed in looking for Mrs. Ebbsmith 
elsewhere. 

Amos. 
Elsewhere ? 

St. Olpherts. 

Sir Sandford recognized that, in his brother's 
present mood, the young man's presence might be 
prejudicial to the success of these delicate negotia- 
tions. 

Amos. 

So some lie has been told him, to keep him out 
of the way ? 

St. Olpherts. 

Now, Mr. Winterfield — ! 

Amos. 

Good heavens, duke — forgive me for my rough- 
ness — you appear to be fouling your hands, all of 
you, with some relish ! 

St. Olpherts. 
I must trouble you to address remarks of that 



THE NOTORIOUS A/RS. EBBSMITH. i8i 

nature to Sir Sandford Cleeve. I am no longer a 
prime mover in the affair ; I am simply standing 

by. 

Amos. 
But how can you " stand by " ! 

St, Olpherts. 

Confound it, sir — if you will trouble yourself 
to rescue people — there is a man to be rescued 
here as well as a woman ; a man, by-the-way, who 
is a — a sort of relative of mine ! 

Amos. 
The woman first ! 

St. Olpherts. 

Not always. You can rescue this woman in a 
few weeks' time ; it can make no difference. 

Amos. 
\_Indi(jnanthj.~\ Ah — ! 

St. Olpherts. 

Oh, you are angry ! 

Amos. 

I beg your pardon. One word ! I assure your 
Grace that I truly believe this wretched woman is 
at a fatal crisis in her life ; I believe that if I lose 
her now there is every chance of her slipping back 



1 82 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

into a misery and despair out of which it will be 
impossible to drag her. Oh, I'll be perfectly open 
with you ! At this moment we — my sister and I 
— are not sure of her. Her affection for this man 
may still induce her to sacrifice herself utterly for 
him; she is still in danger of falling to the lowest 
depth a woman can attain. Come, duke, don't help 
these people ! And don't " stand by " ! Help me 
and my sister ! For God's sake ! 

St. Olphekts. 

My good Mr. Winterfield, believe me or not, I — 
I positively like this woman. 

Amos. 
{^Gladly.-] Ah! 

St. OLPilEKTS. 

She attracts me curiously. And if she wanted 
assistance — 

Amos. 
Doesn't she ? 

St. Olpherts. 
Money — 

Amos. 

No, no. 

St. Olpherts. 

She should have it. But as for the rest — 
well — 

Amos. 
Well? 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 183 

St. Olpherts. 

Well, sir, you must understand me. It is a fail- 
ing of mine ; I can't approach women — I never 
could — in the Missionary spirit. 

[Gertrude re-enters ; the men turn to face her. 

Amos. 

\_To Gertrude.] Will she— ? 

Gertrude. 

Yes. [St. Olpherts limps out of the room, bow- 
ing to Gertrude as he passes. ~\ Oh, Amos ! 

Amos. 
Are we to lose the poor soul after all, Gerty ? 

Gertrude. 

I — I can't think so — oh, but I'm afraid. 

[St. Olpherts returns, and Sir Sand- 
ford Cleeve enters with Sybil Cleeve. 
Sandford is a long, lean, old-young 
man with a pinched face. Sybil is a. 
stately, handsome young woman, beau- 
tifully gowned and thickly veiled. 

St. Olpherts. 

Mrs. Thorpe — Mr. Winterfield. 

[Sandford and Sybil, bow distantly to 
Gertrude and Amos. 



1 84 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

Amos. 

\_To Saistdford a7id Sybil, indicating the settee.'] 
Will you — ? [Sybil sits on settee ; Sandford 
takes the chair beside her.] Gertrude — 

[Gertrudp: f/oes out. 
Sir Sandford. 

\_Po7npously.'] Mr. Winterfiekl, I find myself 
engaged upon a peculiarly distasteful task. 

Amos. 

I have no hope, Sir Sandford, that you will not 
have strength to discharge it. 

Sir Sandford. 

We shall object to loftiness of attitude on your 
part, sir. You would do well to reflect that we are 
seeking to restore a young man to a useful and 
honourable career. 

Amos. 

You are using very honourable means, Sir Sand- 
ford. 

Sir Sandford. 

I shall protest against any perversion of words, 
Mr. Winterfield — 

\_The door of Agnes's room ojjens, and 
Gertrude comes in, then Agnes. The 
latter is in a rustij, iU-Jitting, black, 
stuff dress ; her hair is tightly drawn 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 185 

from her brows; her face is haggard, 
her eyes are red and sunken. A strip 
of linen binds her right hand. 

St. Olpherts. 

[Speaki7ig into Sybil's ear.] The lean witch 
again ! The witch of the Iron Hall at St. Luke's ! 

Sybil. 
[In a IV his per. 2 Is that the woman ? 

St. Olpherts. 

You see only one of 'em — there are two there. 

[Sandford rises as Agnes comes sloivly 
forward, accompanied by Gertrude. 
Amos joins Gertrude, and they go to- 
gether into an adjoining room, Ger- 
trude giving Agxes an appealing look. 

Sir Sandford. 

\_To Agxes.J I — I am Mr. Lucas Cleeve's 
brother ; [^with a motion of the hand towards 
Sybil] this is — this is — 

[He swallows the rest of the announce- 
ment, and retires to the back of the room 
where he stands before the stove. St. 
Olpherts strolls away and disappears. 

Sybil. 
[To Agnes, in a hard, dry, disdainful voice.] I 



1 86 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 

beg that you will sit down. [Agnes sits, mechani- 
callij, with an expressionless face.~\ I — I don't 
need to be told that this is a very — a very un- 
womanly proceeding on my part. 

Sir Sandford. 

I can't regard it in that light, under the peculiar 
circumstances. 

Sybil. 

I'd rather you wouldn't interrupt me, Sandford. 
\_To Agnes.] But the peculiar circumstances, to 
borrow my brother-in-law's phrase, are not such as 
develop sweetness and modesty, I suppose. 

Sir Sandford. 
Again I say you wrong yourself there, Sybil — 

Sybil. 

[Impatiently.^ Oh, please let me wrong myself, 
for a change. [To Agnes.] When my husband 
left me, and I heard of his association with you, 
I felt sure that his vanity would soon make an 
openly irregular life intolerable to him. Vanity is 
the cause of a great deal of virtue in men ; the 
vainest are those who like to be thought respectable. 

Sir Sandford. 
Eeally, I must protest — ! 

Sybil. 
But Lady Cleeve — the mother — and the rest 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 187 

of the family have not had the patience to Avait 
for the fulfilment of my prophecy. And so I have 
been forced to undertake this journey. 

Sir Saxdford. 
I demur to the expression " forced," Sybil — 

Sybil. 

Cannot we be left alone ? Surely — ! [Sand- 
ford hoivs stiffly and moves aivay, following St. 
Olpherts.] However — there's this to be said 
for them, poor people — whatever is done to save 
my husband's prospects in life must be done now. 
It is no longer possible to play fast and loose with 
friends and supporters — to say nothing of ene- 
mies. His future now rests upon a matter of 
days, hours almost. \_Rlsing and walking about 
agitatedly. ~\ That is why I am sent here — well, 
why I am here. 

Agnes. 

\_In a low, quavering voice.^ What is it you are 
all asking me to do now ? 

Sybil. 

We are asking you to continue to — to exert your 
intluence over him for a little while longer. 

Agnes. 

^Rising imsteadily.'] Ah — ! [She makes a 
7n.ovement to go, falters, and irresolutely sits again.~\ 
My influence ! mine ! 



1 88 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH 

Sybil. 

[With a stamp of the foot-l You wouldn't 
underrate your power if you had seen him, heard 
him, about an hour ago [jnockingly'], after he had 
discovered his bereavement. 



Agnes. 
He will soon forget me. 

Sybil, 
Yes, if you don't forsake him, 

Agnes. 

I am going to England, into Yorkshire ; accord- 
ing to your showing, that should draw him back. 

Sybil. 

Oh, I've no doubt we shall hear of him — in 
Yorkshire ! You'll find him dangling about your 
skirts, in Yorkshire ! 

Agnes. 

And he will find that I am determined, strong. 

Sybil. 

Ultimately he will tire, of course. But when ? 
And what assurance have we that he returns to us 
when he has wearied of pursuing you ? Besides, 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS, EBBSMITH. 189 

don't I tell you that we must make sure of him 
now? It's of no use his begging us, in a month's 
time, to patch up home and reputation. It must 
be notu — and you can end our suspense. Come, 
hideous as it sounds, this is not much to ask. 

Agnes. 

[ Shrinking fro m her. ] Oh — ! 

Sybil. 

Oh, don't regard me as the wife ! That's an un- 
necessary sentiment, I pledge you my word. It's 
a little late in the day, too, for such considerations. 
So, come, help us ! 

Agnes. 
I will not. 

Sybil. 
He has an old mother — 

Agnes. 

Poor woman ! 

Sybil. 
And remember, i/oii took him away — ! 

Agnes. 
I! 

Sybil. 
Practically you did — with your tender nursing 



I90 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 

and sweet compassion. Isn't it straining a point 

— to shirk bringing him back ? 

Agnes. 

[Rising.'] I did not take him from you. You 

— you sent him to me. 

Sybil. 

Ho, yes ! that tale has been dinned into your 
ears often enough, I can quite believe. / sent him 
to you — my coldness, heartlessness, selfishness 
sent him to you. The unsympathetic wife, eh ? 
Yes, but you didn't put yourself to the trouble of 
asking for my version of the story before you 
mingled your woes with his. [Agnes faces liev 
suddenly.'] You know him now. Have I been 
altogether to blame, do you still think ? Unsym- 
pathetic ! Because I've so often had to tighten 
my lips, and stare blankly over his shoulder, to 
stop myself from crying out in weariness of his 
vanity and pettiness ? Cruel ! Because, occasion- 
ally, patience became exhausted at the mere con- 
templation of a man so thoroughly, greedily 
self-absorbed ? Why, you married miserably, the 
Duke of St. Olpherts tells us ! Before you made 
yourself my husband's champion and protector, 
why didn't you let your experience speak a word 
for me ? [Agnes quickly turns away and sits ujjon 
the settee^ her hands to her hroiv.] However, I 
didn't come here to revile you. \_Standing by her.] 
They say that you're a strange woman — not the 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 191 

sort of woman one generally finds doing such 
things as you have done ; a woman with odd 
ideas. I hear — oh, I'm willing to believe it ! — 
that there's good in you. 

[Agnes breaks into a low peal of hysteri- 
cal laughter. 

Agnes. 

Who tells you — that? 

Sybil. 
The Duke. 

Agnes. 

Ha, ha, ha ! A character — from him ! ha, ha, 
ha! 

Sybil. 

\_Her voice and manner softening. ~\ Well, if 
there is pity in you, help us to get my husband 
back to London, to his friends, to his old ambi- 
tions. 

Agnes. 

Ha, ha, ha, ha ! your husband ! 

Sybil. 

The word slips out. I swear to you that he and 
I can never be more to each other than companion 
figures in a masquerade. The same roof may 
cover us ; but between two wings of a house, as 
you may know, there often stretches a wide desert. 



192 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

I despise him, he hates me. [ Walking aivay, her 
voice h7'eakin(j.~\ Only — I did love him once . . . 
T don't want to see him utterly thrown away — 
wasted ... I don't quite want to see that . . . 

[Agnes I'lses and approaches Sybil, fearfully. 

Agnes. 

[7?i a wliisper.'] Lift your veil for a moment. 
[Sybil raises her veil.~\ Tears — tears — [with a 
deep groan. ~\ — Oh — ! \^YBiijtur7is away.'] I — 
I'll do it . . . I'll go back to the Palazzo ... at 
once . . . [^^YBih drau's herself up sudde?ily.'] I've 
wronged you ! wronged you ! oh, God ! oh, God ! 

\_She totters away and goes into her bed- 
room. For a moment or two Sybil 
stands still, a look of horror and repul- 
sion upon her face. Then she turns 
and goes towards the outer door. 

Sybil. 

[Calling.] Sandford ! Sandford ! 

[Sir Sandford Cleeve and the Duke of 
St. Olpherts enter. 

Sir Sandford. 
[To Sybil.] Well—? 

Sybil. 

She is going back to the Palazzo. 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 193 

Sir Saxdford. 
You mean that she consents to — ? 

Sybil. 

S^Stamjpinrj her foot.l^ I mean that she will go 
back to the Palazzo. [_Sltting and leaninfj her 
head uj^fon her hands. ~\ Oh ! oh ! 

Sir Saxdford. 
Need Y>^e wait longer, .then ? 

Sybil. 

These people — these people who are befriend- 
ing her ! Tell them. 

Sir Saxdford. 
Really, it can hardly be necessary to consult — 

Sybil. 

lFlercehj.~\ I will have them told ! I will have 
them told ! 

[Saxdford goes to the door of the other 
room and knocks, returning to Sybil as 
Gertrude and Amos enter. Sybil 
drau's down her veil. 

Gertrude. 

{Looking round.] Mrs. Ebbsmith — ? Mrs 
Ebbsmith — ! 



194 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

Sir Sandford. 

Er — many matters have been discussed with 
Mrs. Ebbsmith. Undoubtedly she has, for the 
moment, considerable influence over my brother 
She has consented to exert it, to induce him to 
return, at once, to London. 

Amos. 

I think I understand you ! 

[Agnes appears at the aoor of her room 
dressed in bonnet and cloak. 

Gertrude. 

Agnes — ! 

[Agnes comes forward^ stretches out her 
hand to Gertrude, and throws herself 
upon the settee. 

Sybil. 

[To Sandford, clutching his arm.'] Take me 
away. \_They turn to go. 

Gertrude. 

[Jo Sybil.] Mrs. Cleeve — ! \Looking down 
upon Agnes.] Mrs. Cleeve, we — my brother and 
I — hoped to save this woman. She was worth 
saving. You have utterly destroyed her. 

[Sybil makes no answer, hut walks slowly 
aicay with Sandford, theyi stops and 
turns abruptly. 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 195 

Sybil. 
[ With a gasp.'\ Oh — ! No — I will not accept 
the service of this wretched woman. I loathe my- 
self for doing what I have done. {^Cominq to 
AfiXES.] Look up ! Look at me ! [Froudhj Uft- 
iiKj^ her veil.'] I decline your help — I decline it. 

\_To Gertrude and Amos.] You hear me you 

— and you ? I unsay all that I've said to her. 
It's too degrading; I will not have such an act 
upon my conscience. \_To Agnes.] Understand 
me ! If you rejoin this man I shall consider it a 
fresh outrage upon me. I hope you will keep with 
your friends. 

[Gertrude holds out her hand to Sybil; 
Sybil touches it dlstantlij. 

Agxes. 

\_Clutching at Sybil's sklrts.~\ Forgive me! 
forgive — ! 

Sybil. 
\_Retreatinrj.'] Ah, please — ! \_Turninfj and con- 
fronting Saxdford.] Tell your mother I have 
failed. I am not going back to England. 

[Lucas enters quickly ; he and Sybil 
come face to face. They stand looking 
at each other for a moment, then she 
siveeps past him and goes out. ^A.i<iT>- 
FORD follows her. 

Lucas. 
[Coming to Agnes.] Agnes— [To Agxes, in 



196 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 

rapid, earnest undertones. '\ They sent me to the 
railway station ; my brother told me you were 
likely to leave for Milan to-night. I ought to 
have guessed sooner that you were in the hands 
of this meddling parson and his sister. Why has 
my wife been here — ? 

Agnes. 

\In a low twice, rocking herself gently to and 
fro.~\ Your wife — your wife — ! 

Lucas. 

And the others ? What scheme is afoot now ? 
Why have you left me ? Why didn't you tell me 
outright that I was putting you to too severe a 
test ? You tempted me, you led me on, to propose 
that I should patch up my life in that way. \_She 
rises, with an expressionless face. ~\ But it has had 
one good result. I know now how much I depend 
upon you. Oh, I have had it all out with myself, 
pacing up and down that cursed railway station. 
\_Laying his hand upon her arm and speaking into 
her ear.'] I don't deceive myself any longer. 
Agnes, this is the great cause of the unhappiness 
I've experienced of late years — I am not fit for 
the fight and press of life. I wear no armour ; I 
am too horribly sensitive. My skin bleeds at a 
touch ; even flattery wounds me. Oh, the wretched- 
ness of it ! But you can be strong — at your weak- 
est, there is a certain strength in you. With you, 
in time, I feel / shall grow stronger. Only I must 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 197 

withdraw from the struggle for a while ; you must 
take me out of it and let me rest — recover breath, 
as it were. Come ! Forgive me for having treated 
you ungratefully, almost treacherously. To-mor- 
row we will begin our search for our new home. 
Agnes ! 

Agnes. 
I have already found a home. 

Lucas. 
Apart from me, you mean ? 

Agnes. 

Apart from you. 

Lucas. 
No, no. You'll not do that ! 

Agnes. 

Lucas, this evening, two or three hours ago, you 
planned out the life we were to lead in the future. 
We had done with "madness," if you remember; 
henceforth we were to be " mere man and woman." 



Lucas. 



You agreed — 



Agnes. 

Then. But we hadn't looked at each other 
clearly then, as mere man and woman. You, the 
man — what are you ? You've confessed — 



198 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 

Lucas. 
I lack strength ; I shall gain it. 

Agnes. 

Never from me — never from me. For what am 
I ? Untrue to myself, as you are untrue to your- 
self ; false to others, as you are false to others ; 
passionate, unstable, like yourself; like yourself, 
a coward. A coward. I — / was to lead women ! 
/ was to show them, in your company, how laws 
— laws made and laws that are natural — may be 
set aside or slighted ; how men and women may 
live independent and noble lives without rule, or 
guidance, or sacrament. J was to be the example — 
the figure set up for others to observe and imitate. 
But the figure was made of wax — it fell awry at 
the first hot breath that touched it ! You and I ! 
What a partnership it has been ! How base and 
gross and wicked almost from the very begin- 
ning! We know each other now thoroughly — 
how base and wicked it would remain ! No, go 
your way, Lucas, and let me go mine. 

Lucas. 
Where — where are you going ? 

Agnes. 

To Ketherick — to think. [ Wrmging Iter ha7ids.'] 
Ah, I have to think, too, now, of the woman I 
have wronged. 



THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 199 

Lucas. 
Wronged ? 

Agnes. 

Your wife ; the woman I have wronged, who 
came here to-night, and — spared me. Oh, go ! 

Lucas. 
Not like this, Agnes ! not like this ! 

Agxes. 

\_Appealingly.~\ Gertrude ! [Lucas looks round 
— first at Gertrude then at Amos — and, ivith a 
hard smile upon his face, turns to (jo. Siuldenltj 
Agnes touches his sleeve.'] Lucas, when I have 
learnt to pray again, I will remember you every 
day of my life. 

LuCASo 

I Star in fj at her.] Pray! . . . you! . . . 

\_She inclines her head twice, slowly; 
without another tvord he ivalks away 
and goes out. Agnes sinks upon the 
settee; Amos and Gertrude remain, 
stiffly and silently, in the attitude of 
people ivho are icaiting for the depar- 
ture of a disagreeable person. 

St. Olpherts. 

{^After watching Lucas's departure.] Now, I 
wonder whether, if he hurried to his wife at this 



200 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 

moment, repentant, and begged her to relent — I 
wonder whether — whether she would — Avhether 
— [lookmg at Amos and Gektrude, a little dis- 
concerted'] — I beg your pardon — you're not inter- 
ested ? 

Amos. 

Frankly, we are not. 

St. Olpherts. 

No ; other people's affairs are tedious. [Pro- 
ducing his gloves.'] AVell ! A week in Venice — 
and the weather has been delightful. \_Shaki7ig 
hands with Gertrude, whose express io7i remains 
unchanged.] A pleasant journey! [^Going to 
Agnes, offey'ing Ids hand.] Mrs. Ebbsmith — ? 
\_She lifts her maimed hand.] Ah ! An accident? 
\_She nods.] I'm sorry . . . I . . . 

[_He tur7is aivaij and goes out, bowing to 
Amos as he passes. 



THE end. 



A. W. PINERO'S PLA 



THE TiriES. 

A Comedy in Four Acts. Six male and seven female characters. Scene, a singl 
elegant interior; costumes, modem and fashionable. An entertaining piece, of stron. 
dramatic interest and admirable satirical humor. (1892.) !»■ 



THE PROFLIGATE. ™ 

A Play in Four Acts. Seven male and five female characters. Scenery, thre 
interiors, rather elaborate ; costumes, modem. This is a piece of serious interest, pow 
erfully dramatic in movement, and tragic in its event. An admirable play, but not suite! 
for amateur performance. (1892.) 

THE HOBBY HORSE. 

A Comedy in Three Acts. Ten male and five female characters. Scenery, tw( 
interiors and an exterior; costumes, modern. This clever satire of false philanthropy i 
one of the most interesting of Mr. Pinero's plays, and is an admirable acting piece 
(1892.) 

LADY BOUNTIFUL. 



A Play in Four Acts. Eight male and seven female characters. Costumes, mi 
em; scenery, four interiors, not easy. A play of powerful sympathetic interest, a littJI' 
sombre in key, but not unrelieved by humorous touches. (1892.) i^H 

THE CABINET fllNISTER. 

A Farce in Four Acts, Ten male and nine female characters. Costumes, mnXer 
society; scenery, three interiors. A very amusing piece, ingenious in construction, an 
brilliant in dialogue. (1892.) 

DANDY DICK. ||i 

A Play in Three Acts. Seven male and four female characters. Costumes, modert 
scenery, two interiors. An excellent play, full of humor, and a capital acting piec 

(1893.) 

Note. — T/ie above plays are sold for reading only. The acting right in each ca 
is reserved, and can only be obtained tipon payment of an author'' s royalty of $20 f 
each performance. 

Price, paper covers, 50 cents each. 



SWEET LAVENDER and THE HAQISTRATE 

are printed as Manuscript only, and are not for sale, but can be obtained for an 
teur production on payment of an Author's Royalty of $30.00 a performance, 
each case in advance. Sample copies can only be sent to people personal 
known to us, or satisfactorily recommended. Copies will, however, be deposited 
the hands of our correspondents at different principal points for examination by those 
whom the plays are not already known. All business relating to these plays can be C( 
eluded only by direct correspondence with us, which is accordingly invited. 



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